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The boy, fitting an arrow to the bow-string, let it fly right into 
the left eye of the warrior. Page 286. 

Frontispiece . — In King Philip ’s W ar. 






CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. A Wolf Hunt in the Wilderness 1 

II. Wolves, Bears, and Savages 19 

III. “ Varmints ” that Prowled in the Forest 34 

IV. The Sheepfold in the Woods 49 

V. A Council of War in Camp 63 

VI. King Philip Warns his Friends 70 

VII. The War’s First Massacre 91 

VIII. King Philip Takes Revenge 106 

IX. A Great Indian Fighter Appears 121 

X. Minister Miles’ Garrison House 136 

XI. Searching the Swamp for Savages 151 

XII. Made Captive by Metacomet 167 

XIII. A Fugitive in the Indians’ Country 181 

XIV. The White Man’s Deadly Enemy 196 

XV. War Parties Scouting the Country 211 

XVI. King Philip’s Whirlwind Campaign 229 

XVII. The Massacre at Narragansett Fort 244 

XVIII. The Little Sagamore’s Wigwam 259 

XIX. How Wilfred was Compelled to Surrender 274 

XX. Captain Church and His Prisoners 289 

XXI. Our Friend on Trial for His Life 308 

XXII. Sold into Slavery 323 

XXIII. How the Great Sachem Met His Death 338 




















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































*1 

* - 








«3 










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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


The boy, fitting an arrow to the bow-string, let it fly right 

into the left eye of the warrior . . . Frontispiece 

PAGE 

The boy held the knife so that the keen point penetrated 

the wolf’s throat 32 ^ 

“No, Metacom never stop fighting white mans till he 

dead ! ” 97 

The savage held an enormous horse-pistol, which he 

pointed directly at Wilfred’s head .... 167 

As Wilfred and Pometacom were going through the wood, 
a maiden sought them out, panting from the fatigue 
of running 271 

Approaching the place where the body lay, upon search 

it appeared to be the redoubtable King Philip , . 351 


In King Philip’s War. 















\ 
















IN KING PHILIP’S WAR 


* 


CHAPTER I. 

A WOLF HUNT IN THE WILDERNESS. 

Bright and early, that beautiful Spring morn- 
ing in 1675, the two boys whose adventures are 
narrated in this story, were out and attending 
to their flocks, in the corral beneath the cliff. 
Weary and spent, from their long journey of 
the day before, the sheep and lambs were not 
prone to wander far that morning, nor did they 
recover themselves till late that afternoon. The 
young shepherds were at first quite anxious, ex- 
pecting to find some of the lambs dead from ex- 
haustion; but to their great joy, none were per- 
manently disabled, and before the second night 
all were frisking about in a very lively manner. 

There was much to do during the first week in 
the forest-encircled pasture, for the sheepfold 
1 


2 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


had to be repaired in many places, water con- 
ducted to it by means of wooden conduits (which 
had become choked and somewhat decayed dur- 
ing the Winter) and the yet infrequent grassy 
spots sought out. As the two boys were their 
own cooks, housekeepers, and factotums in gen- 
eral, as well as shepherds, they had little leisure 
during the month of April; but as May opened, 
and especially as it advanced, and the ever- 
lengthening days gave them more and more of 
daylight, they had many hours for rest, recrea- 
tion and study. 

Their daily routine was somewhat as follows: 
At daybreak, both were up and out, and while one 
cooked their breakfast and set forth their rude 
fare, (consisting mainly of corn-meal pudding 
hastily prepared, with just a dash of molasses 
on it, to take out the “ corn-mealy ” taste, and a 
drink of water from the spring) the other let the 
sheep out of the fold in which they had been im- 
prisoned over-night, and started them to feeding. 

After breakfast, one of them brought out the 
much-worn and fragmentary Bible (given them 
by their mother) from which he read a portion 
of Scripture, and then followed a brief and 
simple prayer to the Author of all good. Thus 


A WOLF HUNT IN THE WILDERNESS. 3 

beginning the day in a spirit of devotion, with 
their hearts attuned to the songs of Nature all 
around them, there was little danger that they 
would find their isolated existence either dull or 
solitary. In fact, it grew so attractive, and they 
found so much wherewith to employ their time, 
that both looked forward with anticipatory re- 
gret to the seasons ending; and but for their 
longing for home and the home-folks, might have 
resolved to pass the coming Winter on the hill- 
top. 

Their flock of dependents, also, now increased 
to more than two hundred in number, grew into 
their affections steadily, until at last there was 
scarcely a lamb or sheep in the fold that was not 
known to them at sight, and loved by both of 
them. The shepherd’s life has always been an 
attractive theme for poet and historian, from 
the earliest times, and if we look back over the 
pages of history we shall find that the world has 
been deeply indebted to those who led a pastoral 
life, more than to any other class, perhaps. In- 
deed, were not the first astronomers the shep- 
herds of Chaldea, who studied the stars as they 
lay out amid their flocks at night? 

Like those shepherds of old, our two friends 


4 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


devoted their leisure to study and discussion of 
the natural objects within their ken. They were, 
possibly, the very first of our American “ Nature- 
lovers,” of whom so much has been said and writ- 
ten, in our latter days; but as they did not put 
on record what they observed, they obtained no 
credit for the things they noted in their solitary 
life. 

These two young heroes of our adventure-tale, 
Winthrop and Wilfred Wilkins, were boys of stu- 
dious habit, but had received little schooling, 
save what their parents had taught them at home, 
in the long evenings of Winter. Still, it is not 
necessary to attend college, or even common 
schools, if one have the desire to learn, for ways 
will always open for the studious mind to re- 
fresh itself at the founts of learning. Besides 
their Bible, the boys had brought with them an 
old-fashioned, well-worn “ horn-book,” which had 
passed down from one generation to another, 
from days beyond their parents’ recollection, and 
which now served to instruct and please them in 
their lonely eyrie. 

This old “ horn-book ” was a very thin slab of 
wood, above five inches long and two or three 
in width, upon which a sheet of paper was pasted 


A WOLF HUNT IN THE WILDERNESS. 5 

containing in clear print of “ black-letter ” Eng- 
lish, the Lord’s Prayer, the alphabet, and short 
sentences. The whole was covered with a thin, 
transparent sheet of yellowish horn; hence the 
name by which this simple aid to study was 
called. They also had a Primer — a very small 
pamphlet — w T hich had somehow strayed over 
from England to America with one of the colo- 
nists; but their chief treasure was an old and 
well-thumbed “ Cocker’s Arithmetic ” ; a most 
primitive text-book, indeed, but in their eyes one 
of the literary wonders of the world of books. 

The Bible, Shakespeare and Milton (it has 
been said by somebody) have sufficed as mental 
food for many minds ; but our young friends’ had 
only the first-named, and eagerly absorbed its 
great and living truths. Every scrap of paper 
they could find at home, they had brought with 
them to the hill-top; and the old gray gander that 
lorded it over the more humble members of the 
farmyard had been deprived of nearly all his 
valued wing-feathers, in their quest of quills for 
pens with which to write. 

They had of course, no real lead-pencils ; but as 
substitutes used chunks of lead, which made 
fairly black marks on white paper. They got 


6 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


their ink by steeping the bark of the swamp 
maple in water, boiling the liquid till quite thick 
and diluting with copperas. After their ink 
gave out they used the juices of various plants. 

These trivial things are mentioned in advance 
of their adventures, in order that the boys and 
girls of to-day may realize how little is really 
needed to supply the wants of young people who 
are desirous of progressing with their studies, 
and to point the contrast between old-time meth- 
ods and those more modern. 

“ Where there’s a will there’s a way,” was as 
true then as it is now. These boys had the will, 
a desire to learn, and a determination to suc- 
ceed ; and though they were confronted with ob- 
stacles which might have dismayed boys, and 
even men, of weaker mold, these things only 
whetted their ambition and spurred them on to 
further effort. 

At the outset, their life in the sheep-pasture 
was quite uneventful ; but one morning, sud- 
denly, they were made aware of a menace to their 
flock, possibly to themselves, which they must 
meet and avert. 

Winthrop was housekeeper, that morning; 
Wilfred had gone down to the sheepfold, to at- 


A WOLF HUNT IN THE WILDERNESS. 7 

tend the flock. He had been gone hardly a quar- 
ter-hour when his brother heard a cry, and look- 
ing out from the doorway of their cabin saw him 
scrambling up the hill carrying in his arms the 
mangled remains of a wee lamb. 

“ Look, Wint., look at this poor creature. And 
it is not the only one, either. There are four 
more killed, two sheep and two lambs, besides old 
Bob (the ram) badly wounded.” 

“What, five, in one night?” exclaimed Win- 
throp. It must have been ” 

“ Wolves , of course,” interrupted Wilfred, tak- 
ing the words from his mouth. “ Not a wolf, 
mind you, but wolves , — a whole band of them, 
too.” 

“ And we didn’t hear a sound, either,” said 
Winthrop, after a long, low whistle of surprise. 

“Not near the fold,” replied Wilfred; “but, 
don’t you recall their howling off in the forest? ” 

“ Yes, but we’ve heard that every night, and so 
didn’t notice it.” 

“ Just so,” rejoined Winthrop. “ They are sly 
old rascals, those wolves, and kept up that howl- 
ing for the very purpose of getting us used to it, 
until we became so well acquainted that we 
wouldn’t pay any attention to it, — then they 


8 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


sneaked silently down to the fold and did the 
business ! ” 

“ Wint., we should have kept watch ; you know, 
father said ” 

“ Oh yes, I know what father said — that we 
ought to take turns sleeping with the sheep ; but 
not unless we were sure there were wolves 
about.” 

“ Well, we’re pretty sure now, aren’t we, 
brother?” 1 

“ Dear me, yes. And there’s old Bess, our pet 
ewe, lying down there, dead as Julius Csesar; 
not to speak of Milly, and Jane, and the two wee 
things we have hardly got acquainted with, Wint. 
I declare, I feel like crying. It makes me mad, 
too, to think it might have been prevented. But 
we’ll get even with the sneaks, see if we don’t ! ” 

“ That we will,” added Winthrop, who still 
stood in the doorway, with the hasty-pudding 
kettle in his hand, which he was scouring at the 
time. “ And we ought to have thought of it be- 
fore, instead of 6 locking the door now the horse is 
stolen,’ as the saying is.” 

“ Yes, that’s right ; but who’d have thought 
they’d have sneaked up onto us without a note 
of warning? I rather expected to find a lamb or 


A WOLF HUNT IN THE WILDERNESS. 9 

two killed, or maimed, off in the pasture, when 
we have been away from them a while; but not 
this, not this ! ” 

“ No use to cry over what we can’t help, Wil. 
The thing now is, not only to prevent another 
happening like this, but to kill the scoundrels — 
if we can ! ” 

“ That’s it — if we can,” repeated Wilfred 
gloomily, caressing the dead lamb, still across his 
arms. “ We’ll try, anyway, Wint. Where are 
those fish-hooks father brought along? I meant 
to have looked them over, before this. We must 
get them ready against to-night.” 

“ Hanging up over there in the corner,” an- 
swered Winthrop, going to the place indicated 
and taking down a bunch of big hooks, such as 
were used for catching halibut, and casting them 
on the puncheon table. Then he hunted up 
some lengths of chain, fragments of a “ trace ” or 
“ tug,” which had done duty in pulling out many 
an old stump on the farm. 

“ There they are, Will., all ready to be fixed 
up and dipped. But come in and get breakfast 
first. There’s plenty of time to make the trap 
and load the guns. Of course, they’ll come back 
to-night, and we must keep watch, so we’d better 


10 


IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 


get all the rest, and perhaps sleep, that we can, 
for it may be an all-night job, brother.” 

You’re right, Wint. ; but really, I don’t feel 
like eating; this thing’s taken my appetite away.” 

“ Mine, too. Still, we must be sensible, you 
know. We shall need not only all our wits about 
us, Wil., but perhaps all our strength — if it 
comes to close quarters with the wolves.” 

“ Right again, Wint. We’d be fools, sure 
enough, to let sentiment get the best of us, at a 
time like this. Sentiment for babies, isay I. 
But, ’tis hard, isn’t it, to see those poor things 
in this condition, ones we’ve petted, too, and 
loved as much as a human can a dumb critter 
that’s dependent on him for very life.” 

“ Well,” exclaimed Winthrop, wiping the tears 
from his eyes, “ seems t’me that’s kind of senti- 
mental, ain’t it? But you can’t help it, I know. 
We did love that mite of a critter, that seemed 
so glad to see us every morning, and Old Bess in 
p’ticular, who’d rub her nose ’gainst our legs and 
try to lick our hands when we fed her.” 

“ She’ll never do it again,” said Wilfred rue- 
fully ; “ and, what goes ag’nst my grain is, we’ve 
got to cut her up, to get the tallow for the trap, 
for she’s the fattest of the bunch.” 


A WOLF HUNT IN THE WILDERNESS. H 

“ Then the sooner we get at it the sooner it’ll 
be done. If it must be, it must, and it can’t be 
no muster,’ as old Sam says.” 

“ Yes, brother. Go ahead, and I’ll follow after. 
Set an example by eating hearty, and I’ll do the 
same.” 

“ Anybody’d think I was older’n you,” com- 
plained Winthrop, half querulously, “ for you’re 
always asking me to take the lead. You know 
I’ve no appetite, and ’specially as I’m cook, 
this morning.” 

“ Take it as a compliment, then, Winty boy, 
that I let you lead, instead of making you fol- 
low. You ought to be proud of it. But, soon’s 
breakfast’s over we’ve got to take care of the 
killed and wounded, you know, and after that 
we’ll fix the fish-hooks.” 

“And I hope they’ll fix the varmints, Wil. ; 
or some of ’em, anyway. But, don’t you think it 
would be a good idee to call the neighbors to- 
gether for a big drive? We might catch a few 
with the hooks; but if we could muster up a 
score of men and boys we might drive ten times 
as many into a corner and get that number of 
scalps; not to mention the hides, which are 
ready money, you know, over’n Taunton. 


12 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


“ That is a good idee,” assented Wilfred. 
“ But, who’s going to drum up the neighbors? 
One of us will have to stay here, and both of us 
ought to. Still, if it’s done, no time should be 
lost. What say to drawing lots, — longest straw 
stays, shortest goes?” 

“ It’s all the same to me. Neither job ’ll be 
very attractive, I guess. The one that goes hunt- 
ing for the men will have two days’ hard tramp- 
ing, and the one ’t stays at home may have a 
scrimmage with the varmints.” 

“ Then I’ll stay right here,” exclaimed Wil- 
fred emphatically. “ There’s no doubt in my 
mind that we’ll catch at least one wolf to-night, 
and he may be ugly. As I’m the strongest, of 
course it’s my duty to stay ! ” 

“ No, Wil., it’s mine. It isn’t likely to be a 
question of strength, but of shooting; and I can 
shoot just as well as you can.” 

“ Maybe you can ; but still, it is — or may be — a 
question of strength, for you know we haven’t 
any powder and ball to waste, and if we should 
get an old wolf in the trap it would be to our ad- 
vantage to use cold steel, rather than cold lead.” 

“ Then I’ll ’rastle with you to see who’s strong- 
est. Come now.” 


A WOLF HUNT IN THE WILDERNESS. 13 

“ No, no,” answered Wilfred, laughingly, 
“ You ought to know I can throw you, Wint. 
But I don’t want to try you, even for fun. It’s 
unseemly for brothers to engage like that.” 

“ I’ve a good mind to make you try it, all the 
same,” muttered the younger brother. “ I ain’t 
afraid of you, anyway.” 

“ Now, look here, Wint. Wilkins. Don’t be a 
fool ! I’m older ’n you, and for that reason father 
said you’d got to mind me. I’m stronger ’n you, 
too ; but I won’t put it to any test, because I don’t 
believe in it. And, I trust the time’ll never come 
when we have to find out whose the stronger 
man of us two. The best thing we can do is to 
join our strength against the common enemy, let 
it be a wolf or an Injun; — but to try against 
each other — never, never ! ” 

“ Wil. you’re right,” answered the younger boy 
with a smile, “ and I am a fool, even to think of 
such a thing. But, let’s compromise on this busi- 
ness : “ We’ll both stay here to-night, and see 

what happens; then, if we both think best, I’ll 
go off neighbor-hunting to-morrow.” 

“ Agreed,” replied the elder youth. “ Now put 
these things out of the way and help me get the 
jackets off the critters, before they are too stiff 


u 


IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 


to handle. I’ve got to flake off poor old Bess’s 
tallow and melt it, you know, then we’ll dip the 
hooks ans set the trap.” 

Between watching the sheep in the pasture, 
stripping the pelts off the dead animals, and pre- 
paring the meat and tallow for bait, the boys 
were busily engaged all day, and tired out at 
its ending. In the late afternoon they tied to- 
gether several bunches of hooks, four in each 
bunch, back to back, and dipped them in melted 
tallow, by repeated immersions finally securing 
attractive baits in the shape of big lumps of fat. 
The night was cool, fortunately, else the tallow 
might have run, or softened, so that the hooks in- 
side would show. As it was, each lump preserved 
its pear-shaped figure, and when thrown down on 
the ground near the sheepfold appeared as if it 
ihad dropped there by chance. To each bunch of 
hooks was attached a bit of chain, this again fas- 
tened to a line tied to a small log of wood. This 
attachment would prevent any wolf that might 
swallow the bait from wandering far, acting as a 
clog on its movements, without forcing it to the 
point of disgorging, or breaking away entirely. 

Having made the corral as nearly impregnable 
as possible, and placed four innocent-looking 


A WOLF HUNT IN THE WILDERNESS. 15 

lumps of tallow with their concealed hooks in 
spots around the walls, the boys retired early to 
their bunks, after loading their “ firelocks,” 
which they set up ready at hand in case they 
were needed. 

The first part of the night passed peacefully, 
broken only by the howls of wolves at a distance, 
and daybreak could not have been far away when 
Wilfred, who had slept “ with one eye open ” (as 
the saying is) heard a terrible commotion down 
in the sheepfold. He was not compelled to 
awaken his brother, for the latter was out of his 
bunk before he had reached the door. Each 
grasped his firelock, lighting a slow-match with 
which to ignite the powder in the pan when neces- 
sary to discharge it, and then, half dressed, but 
wholly awake, the two sallied out. 

It may not always be “ darkest just before 
the dawn”; but on this particular morning the 
gloom was intense, owing perhaps to a fog that 
rose from the lowlands. Anyway, the boys 
groped their way over a path that was perfectly 
familiar by night or by day, and soon reached 
the limits of the fold, within which the sheep 
were bleating loudly, and driving about as though 
chased by demons. 


16 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


For the moment, perhaps, the boys forgot their 
baited wolf-hooks, which had been placed outside 
the walls, but they were suddenly reminded that 
one of their traps had been successful in fasten- 
ing a victim, by a big dark body which rose in 
front of the foremost youth like a specter and 
lunged at his throat. 

It was Wilfred’s throat that came near being 
torn, by a double row of ivory-white fangs that 
flashed out of the darkness, and so close a “ call ” 
was it that he felt the hot breath of the wolf in 
his face. He owed his life to the fact that the 
log to which the chain and line were attached 
caught behind a rock at the moment, and before 
the maddened wolf could gather itself again from 
the recoil, Winthrop was upon the beast, with the 
muzzle of his firelock pressed against its breast. 

He could not see the animal distinctly, but the 
fire-red eyes, gleaming like two coals in a cavern, 
made good points for guessing at a vital spot, as 
he applied the match. Then he held steadily 
against the breast of the beast, until its snarlings 
were drowned in the report of the piece. There 
was brief silence then, broken only by confused 
sounds within the fold, as the animals continued 
to drive blindly about; though no longer bleat- 
ing so piteously as before. They were evidently 


A WOLF HUNT IN THE WILDERNESS. 17 

in great terror of something in their midst; but 
it was probable that the intruder bad taken the 
alarm and was now seeking to escape, rather 
than to slaughter any more of the sheep and 
lambs. 

As Winthrop had darted in front of his 
brother, in his eagerness to get a shot at the wolf, 
the latter had shouted : “ Look out ! I hear an- 
other one ahead ! ” And after the report had 
ceased echoing among the cliffs, they both heard 
a rustling sound, as if the log and chain were be- 
ing dragged over the ground. 

“ Give me your musket, Wil., and Fll follow 
that one — and shoot it, too,” exclaimed Win- 
throp as he bent over the wolf he had slain. 

“No, no, brother,” replied Wilfred hastily. 
“You’ve done your share. Not only shot the 
wolf, but saved my life. At any rate, I’d have 
had a hole torn in my leg, if you hadn’t shot as 
you did. It was a gallant deed, Wint. ; but I 
don’t want you to have all the glory, nor run all 
the risks, either, my boy. The critter that’s run- 
ning away is our game, sooner or later, and we 
don’t gain anything chasing him in the dark ; so 
load up while I take a peep into the pen. I wish 
it was a little lighter, though. 


18 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


“ Ha ! Now I see the beast. Oh, Wint., it’s — 
Sure as I’m alive, it’s a bear ! Yes sir, and a wal- 
lopper, too. My goodness gracious, Wint., he 
looks as big as a house ! ” 


CHAPTER II. 


WOLVES, BEARS AND SAVAGES. 

Daybreak was slow in coming, but soon there 
was light enough to see what was transpiring 
within the corral, and the first glimmer revealed 
the animal which Wilfred had hastily pro- 
nounced a bear. He had seen merely a huge 
bulk, moving stealthily around the wall, as if 
seeking a place for egress, and knowing that 
there was no other animal so large, and native 
to those wilds, at once came to a correct conclu- 
sion as to its identity. 

He earnestly hoped he might be mistaken ; but 
the increasing daylight placed the matter beyond 
a doubt. There he was, a great hulking fellow, 
prowling about with his big head wagging from 
side to side, and growling over the predicament 
in which he found himself. He had killed a 
sheep or two, and having had no time to devour 
19 


20 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


his prey, was doubtless in quite a surly mood at 
the interruption. 

“ Savage as a meat-axe ! ” whispered Winthrop 
to his brother, as they peered through chinks be- 
tween the rocks and regarded the captive wonder- 
ingly. 

“ Methinks he is,” answered Wilfred; “ but, 
look here, Wint., you haven’t re-charged your fire- 
lock. Get at it right away, for our next move is 
to give that big fellow a taste of lead. It won’t 
be long before he gets out, for he found it easy 
enough to get in ; and the only reason he doesn’t 
do so, is that he can’t carry away the sheep he has 
killed. He’s hungry as blazes, and I guess he 
wouldn’t mind making a meal of us two, if he got 
the chance.” 

Winthrop loaded the musket as quickly as he 
could, but with all his haste the time seemed to 
drag fearfully, to both the boys. Meantime, Wil- 
fred kept the beast covered with his own musket, 
intending to shoot as soon as his brother was 
ready, but not an instant before. 

At last, after what seemed an age of waiting, 
Winthrop exclaimed, “All ready, Wil. Let me 
blow up my match, first, then — Shall we fire 
together, or had I better hold my shot, in case 
you don’t fetch him?” 


WOLVES, BEARS AND SAVAGES. 


21 


“ Get a bead on him, as I have,” answered Wil- 
fred coolly ; “ but don’t fire till we see how my 
shot affects him. I’ve got in two slugs; but this 
old firelock kicks like tarnation, and ’twixt that 
and the smoke, ’twill be mighty hard to see what’s 
what.” 

“ All right, brother. I’m good and ready, now. 
Let her go ! ” 

“ Bang ! ” The report that ensued, immedi- 
ately Wilfred had applied his match, seemed like 
that of a cannon, magnified as it was by the 
echoes against the cliff; but the boys were pre- 
pared for that, while the bear was not. In fact, 
he seemed more surprised at the noise, than the 
slugs he got behind the fore shoulder, for he stood 
up on his hind legs and looked around in a dazed 
fashion that would have seemed ludicrous, but for 
the seriousness of the situation. The wound 
soon reminded him, however, that something had 
happened to himself, and he snapped at the spot 
from which blood was slowly welling, at the same 
time growling ferociously. 

The bear had dropped the sheep which he was 
attempting to carry off, and for which he seemed 
no longer to care, having other matters that ab- 
sorbed his attention. Looking around, he soon 


22 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


saw the heads of his enemies above the top of the 
wall, and made a bee-line for them at once, walk- 
ing rapidly, still erect on his hind legs. He was 
on the opposite side of the corral when Wilfred 
fired, but had traversed half the distance before 
Winthrop, resting his musket on the wall, drew 
bead at the small white spot on his breast (which 
seemed as if made for that very purpose) and 
then fired the powder in the pan. 

Notwithstanding the difficulties attending the 
firing of that primitive weapon, the firelock, ne- 
cessitating a steady aim and eye, while the tell- 
tale match was being applied, and despite the 
fact that the bear was in motion, advancing men- 
acingly toward him, the boy made what is known 
as a “ center shot ”, and the beast fell right in his 
tracks. 

“ Hooray ! hooray ! Good for you, Wint ! ” 
shouted Wilfred, as he saw the great creature 
sway a moment, then plunge forward to the 
ground. 

“ Guess we got him, that time,” was all Win- 
throp deigned to remark, while ruefully rubbing 
his shoulder ; the rusty old fire-lock having 
kicked him hard, owing to the big load he had put 
in it. The impact of the clumsy butt, in fact, had 


WOLVES, BEARS AND SAVAGES. 23 

spun him almost completely around, and might 
have sent him sprawling to earth, had not Wil- 
fred caught him in his arms. 

“ Did it hurt much?” he asked anxiously. 
“ Hope it didn’t break your shoulder, Wint. 
Mine’s as tender as a chunk of raw beef, and I 
know it must be all black and blue! Let’s look 
at it, now.” 

“ No, no, I’m all right. Better load up, fast as 
we can, for bears are mighty good at playing ’pos- 
sum, you know. That old feller mayn’t be as 
dead’s he looks, and I’m glad we’ve got the wall 
atween us.” 

“ Oh, he’s dead enough. But, see ! Here’s 
something coming right at us now, that ain’t very 
dead, let me tell you. It’s another wolf, sure’s 
I’m a sinner, and he’s mad’s a hatter, too, with 
that big lump in his stomach that he can’t digest 
in a hurry. Grab your gun and run, Wint., fast’s 
you can, out of this.” 

Charging through the narrow pathway between 
the wall and cliffs in which the boys were stand- 
ing, came a big gray wolf, eyes ablaze and air on 
end, mouth wide open and dripping fangs ex- 
posed. He may have been more anxious to get 
away than to make a meal of his enemies; but 


24 


IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 


they didn’t stop to consider this question, know- 
ing their firelocks were unloaded, and bounded 
oft at top speed. 

They had reached the open pasture before a 
halt was called, and then Wilfred exclaimed 
breathlessly, “ Confound it, Wint., I’m not going 
to kill myself running away from a disabled wolf. 
Might’s well die a-fighting as a-running, seems 
t’ me. Here, make a stand behind that rock and 
load up fast’s ever you can, while I open an 
argyment with the critter. Suiting his action to 
the word, Wilfred slackened pace, and loosening 
a big knife, which he always carried in the belt 
around his waist, he whipped it out and turned 
about, facing the direction from which they had 
run. 

“ Jerushy-Jane ! ” he exclaimed, forcibly and 
with disgust, “ There ain’t any wolf in sight, 
Wint! What d’you think of that?” 

“ No wolf? ” snapped Winthrop, busy behind 
the rock at loading up the firelock. “ Why, there 
was a wolf, wasn’t there? ” 

“ ’Course there was, you ninny. Whatever did 
we run for, if there wasn’t.” 

“ I’m sure, I don’t know. Because you said a 
wolf was coming, I guess; but I didn’t see him, 


WOLVES, BEARS AND SAVAGES. 25 

though. P’raps you got excited, Wil., and just 
imagined there was a wolf.” 

“ I didn’t,” retorted Wilfred hotly. “ And you 
know better. There was a wolf, sure’s I’m born, 
and he took after us, too.” 

“ So you said,” rejoined Winthrop, calmly pro- 
ceeding with the laborious performance of load- 
ing his musket. “ But just wait till I get this old 
sinner’s appetite satisfied, and I’ll help you look 
for the varmint. 

“ Ha, what’s that noise — off there behind those 
small pines? Sounded like a wolf’s yelp, as if 
somebody ’d hit it a clip.” 

“That’s the critter!” exclaimed Wilfred joy- 
fully. “ He just slipped off one side and scooted 
for the woods. We might have known he would. 
Well, I’m going to look for him, Wint. You wait 
here a minute.” 

“ Better load up first,” cautioned the younger 
boy. “ Don’t know what you might find in those 
thick woods, you know.” 

“ Oh, I’m not afraid of a crippled wolf. I’ll 
cut him up in no time.” 

“ All right. Do ’s you please. But I won’t 
wait here. I’ll go up and have a peep at the 
bear. He might take a notion to come to life and 
give us another run in the pasture,” 


26 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


“ Go ahead, Wint., and I’ll meet you at the 
fold soon’s I’ve saved that wolf. He can’t be far, 
and his scalp’s worth a dollar, anyway.” 

While TVinthrop climbed the hill again to the 
sheepfold, Wilfred struck out into the forest, the 
edge of which lapped over into the pasture in 
small pines and thickets of junipers. He soon 
found the trail the wolf had taken, following it 
easily by the broken twigs and branches caused 
by the log attached to the chain, which caught 
here and there and impeded the progress of the 
beast. He followed it, however, farther than he 
had expected it to lead, and had penetrated a 
greater distance into the forest than he had sup- 
posed it possible for the animal to go, before he 
was brought to a halt. 

There was something about this that he could 
not understand, especially as the wolf’s yelping 
had seemed to come from a spot much nearer the 
pasture-land. He wished, then, he had charged 
his piece anew, and as the signs became numer- 
ous that something unusual had happened, he 
stopped to do so, beneath a huge pine, the spread- 
ing branches of which formed a roof above his 
head and sheltered him from outside observation. 

He poured the powder into the bell-shaped 


WOLVES, BEARS AND SAVAGES. 27 

muzzle of the musket, and was in the act of ram- 
ming home the wadding, when his attention was 
caught by the breaking of a branch, at no great 
distance away, and he paused to listen. Nothing 
succeeded to this, he rammed down the wadding 
ith the iron rod, which, clanging against the 
barrel, made a noise that might have been heard 
long way off. He thought of this at the time, 
but proceeded with his work until the slugs were 
snugly stowed on top of the powder, with a good 
thickness of wadding above them, then primed 
the pan and re-lighted the slow-match, which, 
somehow, had become extinguished. 

After all was prepared for any emergency that 
might arise, he stepped from beneath his pine- 
roof, — and found himself face to face with a stal- 
wart savage. 

This was a surprise, indeed ; but, accustomed as 
he was to be ever on guard, he threw up the 
musket, so the next motion would bring it to his 
shoulder, and, with the match close to the prim- 
ing, awaited what the savage had to say. 

Without manifesting the least surprise, — for 
he had probably been made aware of Wilfred’s 
near presence by the clanging of the ramrod — the 
Indian merely grunted, eyeing him the while with 


28 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


suspicion. In one hand he held a clutch of ar- 
rows and a big hickory bow, and in the other — 
something that made Wilfred start with an ex- 
pression of anger, — for it was the freshly-stripped 
hide of a wolf. 

Forgetting for the moment that the Indian 
might have companions near, who would come 
to his assistance in the contingency of a fight — 
even if he should not get the w 7 orst of it — Wilfred 
exclaimed angrily, “ Where did you get that wolf- 
skin? ” 

The Indian made no reply, but, after eyeing 
him a while with an expression of supreme scorn 
on his face, turned on his heel and retraced his 
steps by the trail he had followed to the pine. 

Casting prudence to the winds, Wilfred sprang 
forward and placed one hand on the. naked shoul- 
der of the savage — his left hand — ; but still held 
his musket ready for instant service, in his right. 

The savage wheeled about as if on a pivot, and 
in his upraised right hand there gleamed a dag- 
ger-pointed blade a foot in length. This he held 
menacingly above Wilfred’s head, and to meet 
the situation the boy threw up the musket-barrel 
ready to parry the expected blow, yet still with' 
an undaunted front. 


WOLVES, BEARS AND SAVAGES. 29 

The Indian was much larger than the youth, 
being fully six feet tall and magnificently propor- 
tioned. His real height seemed more than it was 
owing to a bunch of eagle plumes in his top-knot 
of coarse black hair. He was naked above his 
waist and below his knees, hips and thighs being 
covered by a half-garment of raccoon skin, which, 
ornamented as it was with several tails, made a 
fanciful appearance. 

Wilfred noted, (even as that shining blade was 
poised above his head with deadly intent) that 
the Indian’s features were cast in a kingly mold. 
His eyes were black and flashing, deepset beneath 
massive brows, his cheek-bones high, nose hooked, 
mouth large but shapely, containing a double set 
of strong, white teeth. 

“What you want?” at last said the savage, 
scowling fiercely. 

“ That wolf-skin. It’s mine,” replied the boy, 
still keeping an eye on the knife and maintaining 
his attitude of defense 

“How that? Wood full wolfs! All b’long 
you? ” 

“ No, but this one caught with my hooks. 
What you do with them ? ” 

“No see um,” rejoined the savage. “No see 


30 IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 

um, no ketch um. This wolf me ketch in pit. 
Shoot um, so — ” 

He lowered the knife, and taking up his bow, 
fixed an arrow on the string and aimed at a 
pretended quarry. 

There was something in the Indian’s attitude 
and manner that convinced Wilfred of his sin- 
cerity; still, he was puzzled. That the savage 
did not intend him any violence, unless he him- 
self should become the aggressor, he felt quite 
convinced, so he lowered the musket to the hol- 
low of his arm and watched him warily. 

“ I believe you,” he said, after the pantomime 
was over. “ But, really, truly, there is a wolf in 
here somewhere that has swallowed my bait, and 
he can’t be far away. You no see um? ” 

“ No, no see um ; but can find. You come.” 

The Indian plunged into a thicket of small 
trees, and soon struck a trail that ran parallel 
with that which he was on when he made his ap- 
pearance. Wilfred followed trustingly after this 
savage with whom he was so recently at the point 
of conflict ; and this may be ascribed either to his 
ignorance, or to his intuitive knowledge of 
human nature — even Indian human nature — ; 
but he was not deceived. 


WOLVES, BEARS AND SAVAGES. 31 

The Indian led the way and he followed after, 
soon arriving at a thicket denser than the wood 
around it, where, with chain entangled in the 
branches of a fallen tree, Wilfred saw a wolf — 
his wolf, as he called it — crouching at bay. 

“ Him your wolf? ” asked the Indian, turning 
around with a broad grin on his swarthy face, 
and pointing at the beast. 

“ No,” Wilfred answered quickly, u not mine 
now; your wolf.” 

The savage looked puzzled. Then it slowdy 
dawned upon him that the youth meant to make 
amends for his rudeness of a while before, and 
waive all claim to the beast. But he would not 
accept the gift, though his changed manner 
showed that he appreciated the intention. 

“ No, no,” he said emphatically, shaking his 
head. “ Your wolf. Me no want um. You want 
kill um?” 

“ Yes, I’ll kill him,” exclaimed Wilfred, laying 
down his musket and whipping out his knife. 
Or, rather, he stood the musket up against a tree, 
to a branch of which he hung the slow-match by 
its string. As he advanced, the wolf showed 
fight, gathering itself up and making ready for 
a spring. There was still considerable play to 


32 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


the line and chain by which it was held, and as 
Wilfred came up the beast met him half way by 
leaping toward his throat. Instead of retreating, 
the boy kept his arm rigid and held the knife so 
that the keen point penetrated the wolfs throat 
beneath the jaw, and following up his advantage 
he thrust the beast to the ground and pinned him 
there. * 

.. He made short work of the remaining job, and 
it was over within a few minutes after it was 
begun. Instead of a snarling, vicious “ varmint ” 
ready for a fight and hungering for gore, all 
I muscle and sinews, animated by deadly intent, 
there was now a limp and almost lifeless body 
with spasmodically twitching legs, and fitfully 
snapping jaws flecked with foam and blood. 

The Indian had looked on approvingly, and 
now he patted Wilfred on the shoulder. 

“ Good boy,” he exclaimed. “ Make big sachem 
sometime.” 

There seemed a touch of sarcasm in his voice, 
and Wilfred looked up, as he bent over the wolf, 
to note also a gleam of malicious humor in the 
sparkling eyes. It seemed as if the Indian were 
playing with him. At all events, he was more 
patronizing than Wilfred liked, and he could 



The boy held the knife so that the keen point penetrated the 
wolf’s throat. Page 32. 

— In King Philip's War. 



WOLVES, BEARS AND SAVAGES. 33 

not but feel that the man himself belonged to a 
class superior to the average run of “ savages ” 
# as the settlers called the red men around them in 
the woods, who sometimes emerged long enough 
to trade a little and secure rum and provisions in 
exchange for wild-beast skins. 

However, he said nothing, though wondering 
somewhat Between them both, they soon had 
the animal skinned, and then the Indian held 
out his hand, saying he must go his way. 

“ Well, won’t you take the hide? ” asked Wil- 
fred; “or at least, the scalp? It’s worth a dol- 
lar, you know.” 

The Indian drew himself up haughtily. “ Me 
no want dollar,” he exclaimed. “ Me got plenty 
dollar. Plenty land, too. Want nothing.” 

“ Oh, pardon me,” said Wilfred. I thought 
» 

Then his jaw fell and the speech froze on his 
lips, for, as he was speaking, the Indian had 
slipped between him and his musket, and now 
held the trusty weapon in the hollow of his arm. 
3 


CHAPTER III. 


“ VARMINTS ” THAT PROWLED IN THE FOREST. 

The Indian’s face wore a sardonic smile, but 
there was a glint in his eyes which, somehow, 
belied the intent of that apparently hostile act, 
and noting this Wilfred took courage. 

He could not believe that he had misjudged the 
savage, for his reasoning was intuitive and rarely 
at fault. Still, whatever his intention, the In- 
dian’s attitude was evident enough, whether as- 
sumed for the occasion or not. He stood there 
like a statute — and the boy could not but admit 
that his pose was grand, statuesque — that of a 
veritable warrior and commander of men. 

“ He may mean just to try me,” mused the 
youth; “or he may intend to kill me; but any- 
way, I’ll die a-fighting ! ” 

That was a favorite expression of his, and real- 
izing that he had used it often in mere jest, he 
34 


“ VARMINTS ” THAT PROWLED IN THE FOREST. 35 

smiled grimly, now that the crucial test was to 
be applied. 

“ I’ll be true to my colors, anyway,” he further 
reflected, “ and nobody shall be able to call me 
a coward, even after Fm dead and gone ! ” 

Acting on this conviction, he seized his knife 
and advanced threateningly toward the savage, 
all the time keeping an eye to the chance of dodg- 
ing the slugs, when the match should be ap- 
plied. He had made up his mind to await that 
moment, after making a feint in order to draw 
the Indian’s fire, and then rush in and slash at a 
vital spot with his knife. In fact, that was the 
only thing to do, as it appeared then — for the 
chances were that his opponent’s aim would be 
confused by the application of the slow-match, 
and under cover of the smoke an opportunity 
might present of darting upon him before he could 
either draw his knife or club the musket. 

That was his plan of attack, and that it would 
have been that of his enemy, also, soon appeared, 
for, suddenly lowering the firelock the Indian 
rested its butt on the ground and extended his 
hand. 

“ Oooi, good!” he said in a deep bass voice 
that rumbled like distant thunder. “ That right 


36 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


— that what me do. No fight you ; know how too 
much. Make great sachem, like me. Like me, 
Metacom.” 

Wilfred stood transfixed, arrested in his ad- 
vance not only by the changed attitude of the foe, 
but by his words. 

“ Metacom? Why, that was no other than 
King Philip y then, who stood before him ! Philip, 
second son of the great Massasoit, who had been 
latterly more than suspected of a deadly enmity 
against the white settlers. He had not been seen 
for months ; but it was well known that he had or- 
ganized an insurrection among the Narragan- 
sets, who were already showing signs of uneasi- 
ness, and that, unable to restrain them much lon- 
ger, he was probably concealed somewhere on the 
outskirts of either the Massachusetts or the Ply- 
mouth settlement, awaiting an opportunity to 
strike a deadly blow. 

This, then, was Philip the King, renowned 
sachem of the Wampanoags, sometimes known as 
the Pokanokets, who, rumor had it, were ready 
now to break the peace of fifty years that had 
existed ever since it had been entered into be- 
tween the Pilgrim settlers and Massasoit. 

“ Well,” said the savage grimly, “ no want 
make friend of Metacom? ” 


“ VARMINTS ” THAT PROWLED IN THE FOREST. 37 

His expression appeared frank enough now, 
and he evidently meant what he said, and all 
his acts implied. He wished to be on friendly 
terms with the white boy, and meant him no 
harm — that was certain. 

“ I don’t know,” Wilfred answered, speaking 
slowly, after due deliberation. “ I would like 
King Philip as a friend, if he would also be a 
friend to all my people. But I have heard — I 
have heard that he would be their enemy ! ” 

“ Mebbe yes, mebbe no,” replied the Indian, 
scowling darkly. “ Some bad white men me no 
like; some good white men me like. Some bad 
Wampanoag you no like ; some good one you like ; 
mebbe. No like all ! ” 

This forceful reasoning had its effect on Wil- 
fred, who then gave way to inclination and prof- 
fered his hand, which the savage grasped in his 
own, and only released after he had squeezed it 
hard. 

“ Now go back,” said the Indian, “ Me go, help 
skin bear, then go to wigwam in big wood.” 

Wilfred desired to ask him where his wigwam 
was located, knowing that there, also, would be 
his family and followers, probably; but he 
thought this would be unwise, if not actually 


3S IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 

leading to a betrayal of confidence; for if he 
knew where Philip lodged, and the white settlers 
demanded that he should reveal the secret, he 
might be placed between two fires. Better know 
nothing, or as little as possible, he argued to 
himself, then he would betray neither one party 
nor the other. 

Philip must have divined what was going on 
in his mind, for he said : “ Live not far ’way — 
just now; but not bymeby. White man seek 
urn, no find um. Me like bear, plenty hoL for 
den.” 

“ But how did you know we had shot a bear? ” 
asked Wilfred, shifting the conversation to less 
dangerous ground. “ It was only scant day-break 
when we did it.” 

“Umph! Think me no got ear, no got eye? 
Metacom no fool.” 

He would say nothing further on the subject, 
but he did not hesitate to reveal that he had 
followed every movement of the youths and their 
neighbors; knew their plans for the summer, and 
also those of the people in the settlement. He 
displayed such knowledge of things which Wil- 
fred had supposed known only to himself and his 
friends that he felt almost afraid to consort with 


“ VARMINTS ” THAT PROWLED IN THE FOREST. 39 

him longer, lest he might betray something hav- 
ing a vital bearing on the white settlers’ future. 
His companion had the frankness of perfect con- 
fidence in his own superior ability to the white 
people in warlike matters, and hesitated not to 
tell his young friend that his spies had been 
prowling about the settlements for months. 

“ Me know all you do, all you say,” he re- 
marked quietly; not in boasting, but as if men- 
tioning a mere matter of fact. “ You say me 
enemy to white man. If me enemy, why me no 
kill him, have plenty chance to.” 

“ I suppose,” replied Wilfred, looking the 
sachem straight in the eye, — “ I suppose you are 
not quite ready yet, and want to kill all at once.” 

Philip laughed uneasily, and shifted his 
glance ; but made no direct reply, for the boy had 
evidently made a home-thrust. 

After a while he said: “ No kill you. No kill 
your friends.” 

“ But why kill at all?” demanded Wilfred, 
casting caution to the winds and resolved to en- 
ter a plea for the white people, in order to avert 
possible disaster. 

“ No say shall kill,” he finally answered, eva- 
sively. “ Plenty white man should be kill. Much 
mens make me evil. But no say, no say.” 


40 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


Realizing that he was again treading on dan- 
gerous ground, Wilfred said no more on the sub- 
ject, but he resolved to exert all his influence — 
provided the friendship continued — to win King 
Philip over to his side. He knew the King had 
been insulted, often, had been robbed, and even 
suffered the loss of some of his subjects, who had 
been murdered by evil-minded white men, and 
thus far had failed to obtain redress in the courts. 
If he now determined to appeal to arms, and 
avenge by pillage and massacre what he could not 
otherwise be compensated for, there was at least 
some show of right — as it appeared to the mind 
of the savage. 

While the two were conversing, they had 
walked rapidly over the return trail to the pas- 
ture, and at last brought the sheepfold in sight 
beneath the cliff. There they found Winthrop 
awaiting the arrival of his brother; but the fine 
show of impatience with which he had intended 
to greet him was swallowed up in his surprise 
at the unexpected company he brought. 

Had the Indian come alone, he would have 
known how to receive him, and have held him off 
for parley at the musket’s muzzle before allow- 
ing him to approach within arrowshot; but as he 


“ VARMINTS ” THAT PROWLED IN THE FOREST. 41 

came in the guise of friendship, vouched for by 
his brother, that was different. He was puzzled, 
of course; nor did Wilfred’s introduction greatly 
enlighten him, except as to the identity of the 
Indian guest. 

“ This is the great King Philip, brother, whose 
name hath been in our mouths full oft. He 
cometh to help us skin the bear.” 

“ He is welcome,” answered Winthrop, “ and 
as you both must be hungry, why not come with 
me to the house?” 

“ Of course we will, for if the sachem is as 
hungry as I am, he will not scorn our humble 
fare. The usual thing, I suppose, Wint., hasty 
pudding and ham fat?” 

“ With mutton added, this time,” replied Win- 
throp, laughing lightly. “ I had to kill the 
wounded ones, you know, and as father and three 
of our neighbors were here when I returned, why, 
they all took hold and helped me, not only to 
skin the sheep, but the bear, also.” 

“ Father here, and others?” asked Wilfred., 
Then he whistled softly, and, in spite of himself, 
cast a glance at Metacom, who stood silently by. 

Philip knew what that meant. He knew that 
his friend was afraid there might be trouble, 


42 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


perchance he met with those sturdy settlers, who 
were already incensed against him; yet he said 
nothing, and looked as though he understood 
nothing. Only his black eyes snapped, like hard- 
wood coals on a frosty night, and his hand in- 
stinctively sought the knife in his wampum belt. 

Asking his guest to excuse him a moment, and 
leaving him leaning in a lazy attitude against 
the wall, Wilfred took his brother aside and 
plied him with questions as to the whereabouts 
of the visitors at that moment, the object of their 
coming, etc. 

“ They’ve gone off looking for a stray ewe,” re- 
plied Winthrop; “and, Wil., won’t there be a 
rumpus when they get back and find that Injun 
here? My, I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes, 
brother ! Guess there’ll be a sort of ready 
reck’ning when they meet! You know, there’s 
Jabe Brown, who, it’s gen’rally known in the 
settlement, shot one of Philip’s men for killing 
a cow. Then there’s Hen. Avery, (meanest man 
in the whole region, it must be said), who as 
good ’s cheated Woonashum out of the wolf 
bounty on two dozen scalps. There are three 
with father; but two of ’em won’t find favor in 
the sight of your friend; and as to that matter, 


“ VARMINTS ’ THAT PROWLED IN THE FOREST. 43 

guess he won’t be any too welcome to the whole 
lot ! ” 

“ Well,” answered Wilfred, after hearing this 
information given in haste by his brother, “ if 
Philip wants to stay, then stay he will, so far’s 
I have anything to say. But, I do hope he will 
take the hint that he’s not wanted, and get out. 
Perhaps he may be gone when we get back, and 
that would relieve the situation.” 

But he was not, having, for reasons of his own, 
chosen to stay and dine with his new friend. 
There was “ nothing for it,” as Winthrop said, 
“ but to put a bold face on the matter, and run 
the risk of no rupture occurring when the various 
guests met at table. 

By the time the meal was ready to be served, 
Goodman Wilkins and his four companions re- 
turned to camp, and (it may be well understood), 
there was astonishment and disgust, which was 
hardly concealed, by the white men, at the pres- 
ence of Philip at the board. Goodman Wilkins 
took his elder son aside and remonstrated with 
him for his indiscretion; but when Wilfred had 
explained the situation fully, he agreed there 
was nothing else to do ; and with good grace did 
the honors at table, attempting to make all feel 


44 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


at their ease. Although half naked as he was, 
Pometacom was by no means disconcerted, for 
he possessed the good breeding of one long ac- 
customed to authority. He was used to the ways 
of the white people, having frequently sat at 
the Governor’s table, with all the dignitaries of 
the colony; and that he was now “ in undress,” 
so to speak, was a matter of his own choice and 
convenience. He needed no introduction to most 
of them seated there, as three had met him be- 
fore, two of them in circumstances not ai together 
creditable to themselves. 

The customary grace before meat was said 
by Goodman Wilkins, to which Philip attended 
with decorum, and then all fell-to at the simple 
repast, which progressed pleasantly enough un- 
til Jabez Brown, the man suspected of having 
killed one of Philip’s followers, openly leered 
in the sachem’s face. They were seated on op- 
posite sides of the table, and Philip could not 
but have seen that there was intention in the 
act; but he ignored it, preferring to keep the 
peace, in honor to his host. 

“ I say,” broke out Brown, exasperated by the 
Indian’s behavior, so superior to his own, “ I 
say thet Injun’s a mis’ble critter, anyhow, an’ 


“ VARMINTS” THAT PROWLED IN THE FOREST, 45 

I can’t stomick settin’ with one, nohow ! ” At 
which he rose and left the table, followed by Hen. 
Avery and another, as they saw trouble brewing 
and hastily concluded to take sides with their 
neighbor. 

For a moment, Philip sat unmoved, but after 
glancing at his hosts, and perceiving that they 
were much disturbed at the incident, he quickly 
came to the conclusion that, as he was, though 
innocently, the cause of trouble, he would re- 
move it by removing himself. He had hitherto 
spoken but little, in monosyllables only, when 
addressed, recognizing the doubtful, delicate sit- 
uation, and behaving according to the impulses 
of a nature far more refined than that of his 
censors. 

“ Good-bye,” he said to Wilfred, nodding, also, 
to the others; “me go. Come ’gain sometime 
when wanted.” 

“ I hope ye ain’t mad,” said Goodman Wil- 
kins, “ I didn’t expect Jabe Brown to break out 
like that. He’d oughter know better.” 

“ P’raps so,” assented Philip with a grim smile. 
“ He need master ! ” 

“ I’m sorry,” said Wilfred, “ that this hap- 
pened. But you’re my guest, and, as the others 


46 IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 

went of their own accord, I say you should 
stay ! ” 

“ No, no, heap trouble, p’raps, if me stay. Old 
man in me strong ! ” 

They all understood that he meant he would 
not be responsible for his actions if further 
provoked, and would go before his passions were 
aroused. And, it must be confessed that all were 
relieved by this simple solution of the difficulty. 

“ Well, I’ll see you off to the woods,” said Wil- 
fred, disregarding his father’s warning glance; 
for the first time in his life, perhaps, disobeying 
his slightest wish. For, both knew there was 
trouble brewing outside, where the three absen- 
tees had gathered, each with a musket in his 
hands, with the evident intention of giving the 
sachem a warm welcome when he should be clear 
of the hut. 

Goodman Wilkins knew this, and wished to 
keep his son out of the difficulty; but Wilfred 
also knew this, and was determined that no harm 
should come to his guest. Philip protested ; but 
despite his protests', and the open displeasure of 
their father, the boys took their stands, one each 
side the sachem, and accompanied him out- 
side. As they walked across the open space be- 


" VARMINTS ” THAT PROWLED IN THE FOREST. 47 

tween the great rock and the woods, the three 
settlers danced about wildly in a vain attempt 
to get a shot at the sachem, without hitting one 
of his escorts. At last Jabe Brown yelled out: 
“ Curse ye, Bill Wilkins, git out er the way, or 
Fll put a hole in ye, consarn yer meddlin’ ways ! ” 

“ I won’t,” answered Wilfred stoutly. “ And 
you don’t dare fire at me, either ! ” 

“ I dassent fire, hey? We’ll see ’bout that!” 
The man threw up his flint-lock, squinting along 
its barrel with one eye. The other eye was 
closed, for sake of a better aim; but if it had 
been open its owner might have saved himself 
some bruises, for King Philip, as if ashamed at 
being driven to the woods like a dumb animal, 
suddenly gathered himself for a mighty leap, and, 
darting backward at the group of three, seized 
Brown by the neck and threw him to the ground, 
with his musket still in his hand. Then he 
yanked him erect again, and catching hold of 
his shoulders used him as a sort of human flail, 
with which he toppled the others over like so 
many ninepins. 

“ Ho, ho,” he shouted. “ You think Metacom 
baby, eh? No can fight — ugh!” 

He cast the unfortunate man to the ground, 


48 


IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 


and after a sweeping glance around, as if seeking 
for more enemies to overthrow, he slapped his 
broad breast a resounding whack, and strode to- 
ward the forest, head in air, and snorting defi- 
ance to all the world. 

At the forest edge he halted an instant, waved 
his hands to the boys, and shouted : “ Good-bye, 
good-bye. Metacom their enemy ; but your friend 
— friend for life. 


j 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE SHEEPFOLD IN THE WOODS. 

As the occurrences narrated in the previous 
chapters had much to do with the great Indian 
outbreak of 1675, known as “ King Philip’s 
War,” during which (though it lasted but a few 
months over a year) more than 600 colonists 
were slain, and 13 towns destroyed ; thousands of 
Indians also losing their lives and properties — 
we cannot too carefully inform ourselves concern- 
ing the events next preceding that terrible dis- 
aster to New England. 

The main features of this war are, of course, 
given in the histories of that period; but, while 
some historians (though they are few) laud 
Metacomet, or King Philip, as a hero; and some 
again denounce him unsparingly as “ a cruel and 
crafty savage, without mercy or compassion,” no 
4 49 


50 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


one gives all the evidence in detail by which 
alone he may be truly judged. 

It shall be our purpose to supply this evidence, 
by narrating the chief events of his life in con- 
nection with his friendship for the two boys 
whose acquaintance we have already made in the 
woods. Owing to the peculiar circumstances 
under which this acquaintance was formed, or 
begun, and their subsequent intimacy with the 
great Sachem of the Wampanoags (even during 
the time he was massacring the white people, 
destroying their settlements, and committing ter- 
rible atrocities) they obtained a knowledge of 
his nature which was denied to all others save 
the members of his own family, and hence the 
great historic value of their story, independent 
of its interest as a narrative of adventure in the 
early colonial times. 

In the first place, let us get better acquainted 
with the boys themselves, the real heroes of our 
story. Their home, at the time we first meet 
them, was in one of the log farmhouses then com- 
posing the little frontier settlement of Swansea, 
lying near what is now the dividing line between 
Massachusetts and Rhode Island. Their father, 
Goodman Wilkins, was one of the early settlers 


THE SHEEPFOLD IN THE WOODS. 51 

of New England in the second generation, and 
from having first seen the light on the voyage 
from England to America, was christened Sea- 
born. For, at that time, the proper names of 
people were often derived from some circum- 
stances attending their birth or surroundings. 
Some others were inspired by piety, as Abiel, 
“ God is my Father; ” Abigail, “ Father’s Joy ; ” 
Hannah, which means’ Grace; Comfort, Deliver- 
ance, Peace, Hope, etc. 

The sons of Seaborn Wilkins, however, owed 
their Christian names to their beloved mother, 
who called the first-born Wilfred, and the second, 
two years younger, Winthrop. The one girl in 
the family was little Dorothy, so called after her 
grandmother, who had lived with them ever since 
her husband had lost his life in Taunton river, 
while hauling lumber across the ice, one winter’s 
day ten years before. The grandmother was the 
oldest member of the household, and little 
Dorothy the youngest, so they shared the honors 
and privileges of queenship between them, the 
divided allegiance of their loving subjects pre- 
venting either one or the other from being spoiled 
by attentions showered upon them both. 

Seaborn Wilkins was rough in appearance, 


52 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


owing to the hard life he had led, always on the 
front of the wilderness, fighting the forces of 
Nature; but his heart was warm towards all his 
fellow-men. His sons knew well the warmth of 
that great, generous heart, and the depth of his 
love, equaled only by that of their gentle mother. 
As “ Aunt Susan/’ all the neighbors in that fron- 
tier community knew the blue-eyed, sweet-faced 
wife and mother in the Wilkins family. Nobody 
had ever heard her utter a harsh word, or even 
chide her children; yet they obeyed her im- 
plicitly, for they loved her to distraction. The 
father was sometimes rough of speech, and always 
brusque in manner; the little mother was his 
direct opposite; yet both were equally honored 
by the devotion of their children. 

It was well that peace and contentment always 
dwelt beneath the roof-tree of Goodman Wilkins’ 
humble hut of logs, for there was scant room 
there at any time. Built of huge logs, the spaces 
between which were chinked with clay, the dwell- 
ing was one of the rudest sort. It had a chimney 
of sticks and clay at one end, in which was a 
yawning fire-place, big enough to take in the 
largest sticks of firewood that the farmer could 
roll into it without assistance; the floor of the 


THE SHEEPFOLD IN THE WOODS. 53 

hut was of puncheons or split logs, well packed 
with beaten earth or clay. The lower story of the 
farmhouse was divided into two apartments, one 
of which was used as a kitchen, dining and liv- 
ing-room generally, and the other as a bedroom, 
occasionally being furnished up as a parlor. A 
rude ladder led to a loft beneath the slanting 
roof, where were two bed-rooms, one belonging to 
the boys, the other to their grandmother, sepa- 
rated by a narrow hall or landing-place. 

During the winter preceding the spring in 
which we find them first, Wilfred and Winthrop 
had felt the pinch of “ Jack Frost ” frequently, 
and sometimes, of a morning, their bed would 
be covered with a mantle of snow, which had 
sifted through the crevices in the roof; so it will 
be seen that the house that sheltered them was 
none too tight and warm. Yet they loved it 
warmly, having known no other home, for they 
knew many a spot that was attractive — at least 
to them, and to little Dorothy, who was as well 
satisfied with it as themselves. 

Having all been born here, they had grown in- 
to it, almost as a turtle becomes attached to its 
shell. Wilfred had lived here sixteen years, Win- 
throp fourteen, and Dorothy seven, these figures 


54 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


measuring respectively the spans of their exist- 
ence. Their lives had been serene and happy; 
for in those days it did not take much to create 
contentment. They did not expect much, so they 
were not greatly disappointed when they did not 
get it. The boys had grown up clad in homespun 
clothing, gone barefoot in summer, and worn 
heavy cowhide boots in winter. They practised 
economy because they had to, and having become 
accustomed to hard knocks and coarse fare, they 
had thrived on them, so that it would be difficult 
to find two sturdier youths of their age, with 
hardier frames, tougher sinews and firmer mus- 
cles, in the Swansea settlement. 

This much as an introduction to the home and 
the boys with which and with whom we have to 
deal in this story of the great Colonial war. The 
home and the kindly folk it contained were typ- 
ical of the times in which the latter lived, when 
most men were brave, honest and hard-working; 
the women home-loving, home-staying, and help- 
meets in every sense of the word. 

Spring, at last, had advanced so far that the 
cattle could be turned out to graze on the tender 
grass springing up in sheltered nooks by the 
sides of walls and along the watercourses. The 


THE SHEEPFOLD IN THE WOODS. 55 

hillside pastures took on a garb of green, and 
the maple buds reddened in the sun. Then it was 
that Goodman Wilkins said to Wilfred, the elder 
son, “ Methinks the time is nigh to drive the 
flocks off to the hills. You’re ready, of course, 
you and Winthrop, having had naught else to do 
but study and work, the winter past.” 

“ As to that, father,” replied Wilfred, “ while 
it is true that the winter has, in sooth, been long 
enough, yet we have had much to do, please bear 
in mind, and ” 

“What?” roared Goodman Wilkins. “D’ye 
mean to say ye’re not ready yet? Egad, I’ll go 
myself, then, old as I am, and eke unable to 
leave.” 

“ Father, I did not say we were not ready,” re- 
joined Wilfred laughingly; “ for, truth to tell, we 
both are ready, eh, brother?” 

“ As ever we shall be,” answered Winthrop. 
“ But, I’ faith, I’m not over glad to go, to bide 
alone for the next six months, with no other com- 
pany but the sheep, and in the midst of the big 
forest. It is really something awesome. Don’t 
you think so, mother? ” 

“ Indeed I do, my son,” upspoke the mother, 
her eyes moist with tears. “Many’s the night 


56 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


I’ve lain awake, unable to close my eyes for think- 
ing of my dear boys, out there all alone in the 
great forest, with no neighbors other than the 
wolves and savages, watching the flocks that the 
wild beasts would fain rend and destroy. Is it 
really necessary, Seaborn, that they must go into 
the woods to bide all summer? Can they not go 
and come, out in the morning, and returning at 
night, leaving the flocks well hedged about? ” 

“ Susan, eke must thou have lost thy senses,” 
replied Goodman Wilkins roughly. “ Knowst 
not that it is at night the sheep and lambs are 
most in danger. Then is it that the wily wolves 
come down from the mountains and prowl about 
the sheepfold, looking for their prey; and then it 
is, perchance, that the wicked savages also come 
down ” 

“ Ah, that is it,” exclaimed the gentle mother, 
with a shudder. “ That is it : to think of my 
precious boys exposed to the assaults of all those 
terrible creatures of the wilds, which would hesi- 
tate not to devour them, as well as the flock. 

“ And I have heard,” she added, lowering her 
voice to a whisper, — “ I have heard that the 
Indians are getting very restive, this season. So 
Neighbor Jackman told me, only yesterday, that 


THE SHEEPFOLD IN THE WOODS. 57 

he saw three of King Philip’s men prowling about 
the big pasture in the pines. And they had not 
alone their rude bows and arrows, but guns and 
powder-horns ; — in sooth, were equipped for war- 
fare as well as for the hunt.” 

“ Tush, tush, wife, that is but an idle tale. Me- 
thinks Neighbor Jackman may have been indulg- 
ing over much in usquebaugh, or fire-water, and 
saw more things than he could swear to. No, 
no; though there be rumors of Metacomet’s 
rising against the white settlers of this colony, I, . 
for one, believe them not. Remember, goodwife, 
he’s a son of Massasoit, the good old Sachem who 
kept faith with our friends and fathers full fifty 
years. It cannot, must not be, meseems, for it is 
not in his blood to harm the white folks. 

“As for the wolves, — and they are really the 
only wild beasts to be feared — our sons are well 
prepared to give them something that will re- 
duce their droves full sore, or I mistake me. For 
they carry along the means for making wolf- 
traps, with which to circumvent the four-footed 
enemy. And they be not their father’s boys, if 
they do not so, I ween.” 

“ That we will,” interposed Wilfred hastily. 
“ Without a doubt, we shall be able to circumvent 


58 


IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 


the wolves, dear mother. Don’t you remember 
the skins we brought back home from last year’s 
hunt — full a score; and the prices they brought 
us at the Taunton store, especially those two big 
ones with the bristly manes? ” 

“ Sooth, do I,” answered Goodwife Wilkins, 
trembling at the recollection. “ And well do I 
recall that one of those big ones, he of the glar- 
ing eye and shaggy hair, came near to taking thy 
life, my son. So I say, ’twere well if we could 
but avert this departure for the forest-pasture 
this summer, of all times. Truly, Seaborn, more 
to us should be our own flesh and blood, than the 
price of many lambs and sheep, e’en though we 
be not rich, but scant of wealth. 

“ What should we do — Oh, what could we do, 
were they never to return?” 

“ Now, out upon thee, Goodwife,” exclaimed 
the farmer angrily. “ Go they must, and go they 
shall; that settles it. And return will they, too, 
for they have been before, without harm coming 
to them eke at all. ’Tis true, old Ben Bowden 
was then with them, while this season they must 
go alone; but that matters not so much. It is 
settled, I tell ye all, Indians or no Indians; wolves 
or no wolves ; so there ! ” 


THE SHEEPFOLD IN THE WOODS. 59 

“ Of course it is, mother dear,” broke in the 
brothers together. “ And you’ve known of it all 
the winter long,” added Wilfred, “ so what’s the 
use of worrying? ” 

“ Ah, but this is the time for parting,” sighed 
the little mother; “and moreover, it is only but 
of late that the rumors have been spread of the 
Indian uprising. That, and the wolves ” 

“ Oh, bother the wolves,” exclaimed Winthrop. 
“ I tell thee, mother dear, they are not to be 
feared at all. So kiss us good-bye, and give us 
thy blessing, for of a verity we must be off, this 
very day.” 

Having heard the discussion with ears and eyes 
wide open, little Dorothy was disposed to rebel- 
lion, lifting up her voice especially when the 
wolves and “ murtherous salvages ” were men- 
tioned. But she w T as pacified by the promise of 
a fine gray squirrel as a pet, at the home-coming 
in the autumn, and, like her mother and grand- 
mother, kissed the boys good-bye with tear-stained 
face, though without another word of protest. 

From the farm to the hill-pasture in the woods, 
where the sheep were to be maintained during 
spring and summer, even until late in autumn, it 
was nearly an all-day’s journey. It was not far 


60 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


in a straight line, nor would it have taken long 
to go there had there been good roads to traverse ; 
but the only highways were trails and winding 
foot-paths, over which it was most difficult to 
drive the restless, roving animals, so prone to 
dart off into the woods on either side. 

After painfully making their way through the 
woods, sometimes in deep gloom, sometimes 
across sunlit spaces of open glades, the shep- 
herds came at last to the great pasture-lands of 
the hills, comprising a thousand acres or more of 
natural grasses, within the shelter of a vast con- 
tiguous forest. A hill near the center of this pas- 
ture was high enough to afford a view over the 
lowlands for many a mile around ; but there was 
within that view no scene that suggested human 
habitation, for a sea of trees encompassed the hill 
on every side. 

This hill was a spur from a much higher one, 
which was wooded, and connected with the lower 
one by a saddle-back ridge, like an artificial ram- 
part, from which flowed an underground spring 
which gushed into outer air at the base of an 
immense rock surrounded with pines. 

Within the shelter of these pines, and built 
against the sheer side of the rock, stood a log 


THE SHEEPFOLD IN THE WOODS. 


61 


“ lean-to ” with a bark-covered roof. A little 
lower down the hill was a large enclosure within 
a fence or wall of rocks, where the animals were 
to be quartered, and after driving them into it, 
the boys and their father sought the hut. 

After assuring himself that the lean-to was se- 
cure and comfortable, Goodman Wilkins took the 
return trail to his farm, though the day was well- 
nigh spent and he would have to travel part 
way after dark. 

“ Remember, my boys,” he said, as he wrung 
their hands for the last time at parting, “ that 
while it isn’t very far down to the farm, you can’t 
both leave here at once, and ’tisn’t expected that 
either of you will at all, at least, not under two 
months from now. P’raps me and Ma and Dot. 
will take a run up here in June, or July; but 
don’t count on seeing us any sooner’n that. 

“ Don’t forget that the lambs need a deal of 
looking after, and be sure to keep a sharp lookout 
for wolves. You’ve got provisions enough here 
for a month, and we’ll bring you more when we 
come up. There’s a firelock apiece, and you both 
know how to use ’em. 

“Now, what more can I say. . . ? Oh, the 
savages. There ore Injuns in the woods, prowl- 


62 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


ing about — not a bit of doubt as to that; but they 
won’t be likely to harm you if you mind your own 
business. Howsomever, don’t on any account al- 
low any of ’em to step inside the hut — least- 
wise, not to sleep in it over night; but don’t do 
anything likely to provoke ’em, either. Even if 
they do steal a sheep or two, it is better to lose 
that much than to start a quarrel that might end 
in losing a scalp. Not that there’s any danger, in 
my ’pinion ; but you never can tell what may hap- 
pen, my sons.” 

With this sage advice, Goodman Wilkins had 
left his boys alone in the hut on the hillside, 
plunged into the w T oods, and was soon out of 
sight in the dusk of the waning day. 


CHAPTER V. 


f 'A COUNCIL OF WAR IN CAMP. 

We will now continue the narration from the 
point where it was broken off by the abrupt de- 
parture of King Philip, after his onslaught upon 
the unfortunate Jabe Brown and his friends. 
They were severely punished for their baseness in 
attacking a guest of their friends; but their 
bruises were not bad enough to hold their tongues 
in check. 

Jabe was the spokesman, as well as chief 
mourner, and as soon as he had recovered his 
wits he and his two friends lost no time in be- 
stowing a tongue-lashing upon Wilfred and his 
brother. 

“ Consarn yer picters,” exclaimed Jabe, rising 
from the ground with a great effort, and tremu- 
lously shaking his fist at the elder boy. “ You’re 
the cause of all this, Bill Wilkins, an’ you’ll suf- 
63 


64 : 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


fer fer it, too, lemme tell ye. Ef it wa’n’t fer the 
proof we’ve gut thet you’re a traiter, and sure 
tew be shot ennyways, I’d up an’ dew it right 
naow. Yisseree, I’d shoot yer deader’n a red 
herrin’.” 

“ Don’t let anything like that stop you, Jabe 
Brown,” answered Wilfred promptly. “ I’m 
quite willing to be held responsible for all I’ve 
done, even to the Governor and Council, when- 
ever they may send for me, and to give them what- 
ever information I have — which is just nothing 
at all. As you know, I met King Philip by ac- 
cident, and this morning, for the first and only 
time in my life; so there can’t be much to prove 
against me, or against my brother.” 

“ And if it comes to shooting,” broke in Win- 
throp, “ why, two, or as to that matter, three, can 
play at that game, neighbor Brown. Put that in 
your pipe and smoke it ! ” 

“ This reminds me, boys,” said Goodman Wilk- 
ins, w T ho had stood aloof without saying a w T ord 
hitherto, “ that I’ve brought ye two fine flint- 
locks, in place of them old firelocks that are out 
of date now, and hardly fit to shoot wolves with — 
let alone some other kinds of varmints that prowl 
round on their hind legs lookin’ for trouble.” 

“ If ye mean me,” excitedly exclaimed Brown, 


A COUNCIL OF WAR IN CAMP. 


65 


“ jest say the word an’ we’ll hey it aout, right here 
and naow. Your boys hev played the traiter by 
keepin’ eomp’ny with a Injun, an’ the wust one 
of the hull Wampanogy nation, tew, lemme tell 
ye ag’in, Sea. Wilkins.” 

“Well, maybe they have; but seems t’me they 
couldn’t have done much harm in the short time 
they was together,” replied Goodman Wilkins 
calmly. As to saying the ‘ word,’ I say it now, 
and right here on this spot: that you, Jabe 
Brown, are wrnss’n any Injun I ever met or heerd 
of, and my ’quaintance’s pooty ’xtensive, too.” 

“Ain’t no wuss’n yew be,” rejoined Brown, 
doggedly; but giving no sign of picking up the 
gauntlet Goodman Brown had cast at his feet. 
In fact, he was more bluster and brag than any- 
thing else and was cowed by the determined front 
of his opponents. As to his two friends, they 
were already ashamed of the part they had played 
in that short but exciting game of “ bluff,” and 
as they were not very badly hurt, they soon came 
to reason — or rather, allowed reason to come to 
them — and went over to the enemy. 

“ You was a leetle brash, Jabe,” said Hen. 
Avery, “ and so was we. But the best way out’n 
it now is tew fergive ’n fergit, I says.” 

5 


66 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


Hen. Avery had a foxy face, and he held out to 
Wilfred a very foxy paw, which the latter was 
constrained to shake, though loathing the beast 
with all his soul. He knew there was no trust- 
ing him, nor for that matter Mr. Brown, either; 
but was willing to patch up a peace on almost any 
terms, realizing the precarious nature of his posi- 
tion. 

The third neighbor, being of that negative cast 
that accepts whatever comes along without ques- 
tion and follows the first leader in sight, fell in 
behind his friends without a word, and so a 
truce was made that for the time being tided 
over the trouble that had loomed so large at the 
outset. It was only postponed, — that reckoning 
with Jabe and Hen. — all the Wilkinses realized 
full well, for they knew the sneaking, vengeful 
natures of both; but the goodman pretended 
to welcome the advent of peace with joy. 

“ That’s right, neighbors, that’s the talk,” he 
declared hilariously, passing around and grasp- 
ing each man by the hand in succession. “ We 
can’t afford to have trouble right at the start off, 
’specially over the very Injun that may cause 
further trouble. What we’ve got to do is to have 
a ‘ jaw ’ about what’s best to do. Now come back 


A COUNCIL OF WAR IN CAMP. 67 

to camp and finish eating friends. After that 
we’ll take a swig of that old cider of mine — 
which I’m glad I brung along, now, though it 
was a heavy load to carry, that jug — and then 
fill up the pipes and smoke it out.” 

“ That suits my c’mplexion,” said Hen. 
Avery; “ but I hope thet lamb ain’t all gone. 
Anyway it’s too cold tew eat, I’ll wager a penny 
to a turnup.” 

“ If ’tis we’ll warm it up,” said Goodman Wil- 
kins. “ Wint., run in and set the table over ag’in, 
and Wil., hunt up them pipes and ’baccy, for 
we’re goin’ to have a ( powwow,’ as the Injuns 
call it.” 

Lest my readers might imagine the use of 
tobacco and cider were unknown in the colony, 
at that time, we will quote from a contemporary, 
who, writing twenty years previous to the date 
of this story, says : “ The Colonists made shift 
to rub our Winter’s cold by the Fireside, having 
Fuell enough growing at their very Doores, turn- 
ing down many a drop of the Bottell, and burn- 
ing Tobacco with all the ease they could, dis- 
coursing betweene one while and another of the 
great progresse they would make after the Sum- 
mer’s Sun had changed the Earth’s white furred 
Gowne into a greene “ Mantell.” 


68 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


Jabe Brown was still quite surly, feeling that 
he ought to provoke another quarrel in order to 
avenge his injured dignity. But, after he had 
repaired the error of leaving before dinner was 
finished, by amply stowing away such food as 
was now before him; and especially as he and 
his neighbors sat together beneath the trees, 
puffing contentedly at the fragrant “ weed,” — 
why, he felt much better disposed toward the 
world in general. His private grudge against 
the boys was yet warm, and indeed he took good 
care that it did not get cold; but at the time 
relegated it to the background. 

“ Now, as to this Pokanoket sachem called 
King Philip,” said Goodman Wilkins, opening 
the powwow with reference to the absent chief 
who had caused the disturbance, “you all know 
that he’s the second son of good old Massasoit, 
so called, who was chief of the Wampanoags when 
the Plymouth Pilgrims arrived here, sometime 
in 1620. The fust Injun they ever talked with, 
my grand’ther used to tell me, was a redskin 
named Samoset, who met the Pilgrims soon after 
they had landed at Plymouth and su’pprised ’em 
by saying * Welcome Englishmen / having been 
taught them words by some of Capt’n Smith’s 


A COUNCIL OF WAR IN CAMP. 


69 


fishermen, years before. Next day he come with 
another Injun called Squanto, who also had a 
few words of English, and these two told the 
Pilgrims ’bout Massasoit, their chief or sachem, 
who — to make a long tale short — they brought 
with them next time they come. 

“ Well, my grand’ther says they made a treaty 
with him which the old chief kep’ faithfully all 
the rest of his life, or for nearly forty year. 
Some of us can remember well ’nough when he 
died, only fifteen year ago, in ’60, and how’t his 
son Alexander succeeded him as chief sachem. 
He didn’t live very long — only two year — as we 
all know, and then come Metacom, this Injun 
we call Philip. 

“ My grandad used to tell that these sons of 
Massasoit got their names from the Pilgrims, 
who give ’em to ’em after them great old Greeks 
of hist’ry, you know. Anyhow, that’s what he 
is called now, King Philip of Pokanoket, that be- 
ing the name of the place we call Mount Hope, 
over next to the Narrerganset country, where 
his father used to live, and where he has his chief 
wigwam now. 

“ It ain’t very far away, and if war does break 
out, why, the fust thing to do would be to march 


70 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


against Pokanoket — in my ’pinion — and burn the 
wigwams, and ravage the big corn-fields that 
Philip has planted there — more’n a thousand 
acres, they say — which would well-nigh break 
his heart, I’m thinkin’.” 

“ Huh ! ” sneered Hen. Avery. “ An’ while we 
wus marchin’ ag’inst Pokenoky — or whatever you 
call it — what d’you think this here King Philip 
would a be doin’, eh? Why, he’d be a rampagin’ 
about, a-killin’ of us and our wives and chidrun, 
— that’s what he’d be a-doin’ ! ” 

“ Sure’s fate,” assented the nameless neighbor. 
Sawnsea’d be the very fust place he’d tackle.” 

“ ’Cause me an’ Jabe live in it, I s’pose you 
think, don’t ye? ” 

"Well, it’s pooty sartin he don’t love ye any 
too much.” 

“ There never was a good Injun, in my ’pinion,” 
growled Jabe Brown, an’ this here Metacom, ’s 
you call him, ain’t a bit better’n the rest.” 

“ Father, may I say something? ” asked Wil- 
fred. The goodman having nodded assent, and 
there being no opposition from the others, lie 
ran into the hut, soon re-appearing with the 
fragment of an old book. “ Here is what Gover- 
nor Bradford wrote of these same Indians,” he 


A COUNCIL OF WAR IN CAMP, ft 

said, “ fifty years ago: 6 We have found the In- 
dians very faithful in their covenant of peace 
with us, very loving and ready to pleasure us. 
We often go to them, and they come to us. Some 
of us have been fifty miles in the country with 
them. Yea, it hath pleased God so to possess 
the Indians with a fear of us and love unto us, 
that not only the greatest king amongst them, 
called Massasoyt, but also all the princes and 
people round about us, have either made suit 
unto us, or been glad of any occasion to make 
peace with us, so that seven of them at once have 
sent their messengers to us to that end. So 
that there is great peace amongst the Indians 
themselves, which was not formerly; and we, for 
our parts, walk as peacefully and safely in the 
woods as in the highways in England. We enter- 
tain them familiarly in our houses, and they as 
friendly bestow their venison on us. They are a 
people without any religion or knowledge of any 
God; yet very trusty, quick of apprehension, ripe- 
witted and just.’ ” 

“ Pooh,” ejaculated Jabe Brown, puffing out 
a big column of smoke, “ that statement don’t 
signify nothin’. That old Massysawit was peace- 
ful enough ’cause he was a man of peace, and 


72 


IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 


didn’t have no warriors nor fightin’-men ; but his 
son, this here skunk thet turned on us to-day ’s 
a diff’runt feller altergether. See the warriors 
he’s been gettin’ tergether, the last two year, and 
the divil’s doin’s he’s been puttin’ them Narrer- 
gansets up ter! 

“ An’ speakin’ uv them Narrergansets. Didn’t 
yer never hear uv the all-fired thrashin’ Captin 
Mason give ’em, way back in ’35 or ’36? An’ all 
thet wus sence old Guvner Bradford writ them 
things, ’n I guess the nater uv the red-skins hes 
changed sence then, ef he writ thet he entertained 
um in his haouse. Ketch me a-entertainin’ a 
scurvy Injun in my haouse ! ” 

All the others smiled at this remark, for it was 
well understood in Swansea that Jabe Brown’s 
house was occupied by him only on sufferance, 
for his goodwife, sharp-tongued “ Aunt Sap- 
phiry ” “ ruled the roost ” in that domicile, per- 
mitting the entertainment of nobody she did not 
approve — and she rarely approved of anybody 
whatever. 

“ Well, ye may laff, darn ye all ; but I’m mighty 
p’tikerler ’bout the comp’ny I ’sociate with, 
lemme tell yer.” 

“ Sh’dn’t think ye’d draw the line at a king, 


A COUNCIL OF WAR IN CAMP. 73 

though,” said Hen. Avery, with a loud guffaw. 
“ Kings is mighty source hereabaouts.” 

“ They ain’t so source ’s they will be pooty 
soon ! ” retorted Brown. “ Jest wait till I draw 
er bead on that feller. Jest wait; thet’s all!” 

“ But where did Metacomet, as some call him, 
get his education?” asked Winthrop, anxious to 
create a diversion. “ He can talk English as 
well as anybody, I’ve heard, and well enough to 
be understood,” as we know. 

“ Oh, he’s been to school some,” volunteered the 
nameless neighbor. “ I’ve heerd tell that the 
folks in Plymouth and Mass’chusetts colony 
allers made a good deal of him when he used to 
come to visit ’em, treatin’ him like a prince, when 
his father’s alive, and like a real king after he’s 
dead. He picked up a good deal ’f English in 
the streets, and some in school; but he’s a real 
heath’n, they tell me, knowin’ nothin’ ’bout any 
true God, and worshipin’ a sort of divil called 
Hobbamocco. He’s his evil god; but he’s got 
another one, they say, called Kitan, who’s his 
good one. He don’t mind the good one much, 
but is afeard, they say, of old Hobbamocco and 
makes sacrifices to him of live beasts, some say 
of childern. I’ve heerd he’s a regular cannybull, 
or somethin’ like that.” 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 

“ Cannibal, a man-eater, is what yon mean, 
I s’pose,” said Wilfred. “No, no, Metacomet 
isn’t that; but as for his belief in a strange god, 
I don’t know.” 

“ Well, I do,” rejoined the nameless neighbor, 
“ for I know a man thet’s seen him at his tan- 
trums, down in Plymouth woods, when he thought 
nobody wan’t seein’ of him, an’ he says it was a 
sight, so ’twas, to see him cut up, and bow down 
and gyrasticate before an old wooden imige of the 
most hejous thing he ever saw.” 

“ He’s a heathen, sure ’nougli,” remarked Jabe 
Brown sagely. “ But yew may bet I’ll make a 
Christyun uv him b’fore I git threw with him.” 

“Yew mean a dead one, don’t yew Jabe?” 
asked Hen. Avery. 

“ Ezackly, thet’s what I mean,” admitted Jabe, 
knocking the ashes out of his pipe. “ Naow, this 
conf’runce’s ended, and we hain’t agreed on a 
plan uv campaign. It won’t do to let thet mis’ble 
skunk git away to kill, an’ murder ’n burn, — fer 
thet’s whut’s whut. It’s my privit ’pinion thet 
he’s goin’ tew come back to see Bill, here, bein’ 
mighty fond uv him all uv a suddin’ ; and, lemme 
tell yer, I’m goin’ ter lay out fer him and give him 
a dose of his own med’cine.” 

“ And me, too,” chimed in Hen. Avery. “ Now, 


A COUNCIL OF WAR IN CAMP. 75 

what’s the rest of you goin’ to do? Stay here in 
camp like a settin’ hen, or lay out an’ ambush 
Mister Metacomet. And he won’t be Met-a 
comet much longer after lie’s Met-a-flint-lock, 
lemme tell yer, boys! How’s that, eh?” 

“ Pooty good, I vum,” cried Jabe Brown, with 
a loud guffaw, in which Hen. was not slow to 
join. “ An’ may we all be there to see, says I.” 

“ Well,” said Goodman Wilkins, “ somebody’s 
got to carry some of that bear meat down to the 
settlement. E’en though it’s ruther late ’n the 
season for bear meat, it’ll come mighty handy, 
just now, when we’re ’twixt hay an’ grass, so to 
speak, for fodder of that sort. Then there’s the 
skin, that’s wuth somethin’, while three wolf- 
scalps ain’t to be sneezed at. Pooty good 
mornin’s work, boys, I call it.” 

“ But one of the scalps belongs to Philip,” 
cried Wilfred. “ He must have forgotten to 
take it, he left in such a hurry.” 

“ He was in pooty consid’ble of a hurry, thet’s 
a fact,” said Jabe Brown, with a scowl. “ An’, 
seein’s how’t was mostly on my ’count, guess I’ll 
’propr’ate thet air scalp myself. “ It’s wuth a 
doller, ’n thet won’t more’n buy linimunt to rub 
my j’ints with, fer he left me ruther shook up, the 
mis’ble varmint ! ” 


CHAPTER VI. 


KING PHILIP WARNS HIS FRIENDS. 

Wilfred offered no opposition to the taking 
of Philip’s wolf-scalp by Jabe Brown, because 
in the first place it was not his; and in the 
second, he could replace it by one of his own 
trophies, if the matter ever came to a settlement. 
Soon after this division of the spoils, Goodman 
Wilkins set out for home, attended by the name- 
less neighbor, while Jabe and Hen. made their 
preparations for “ laying out ” — as they termed 
lying in ambush, for King Philip. 

Their belief that Metacomet w r ould soon return, 
was shared by Wilfred and Winthrop, who looked 
forward with keen apprehension to the possible 
result, but dared utter no word of protest against 
the proposed scheme for waylaying him in the 
woods. 

In order to keep in touch with affairs, however, 
Y6 


KING PHILIP WARNS HIS FRIENDS. 77 

it may be mentioned at this juncture, that Philip 
did not return for more than a month; or at least, 
if he did, was wary enough to keep out of the 
white men's clutches, — and finally the latter 
abandoned their project and went back to the 
settlement, after a noisy altercation with the 
boys. They had subsisted upon the latter, mean- 
while, demanding the best their lean larder 
afforded, and drawing heavily upon their slender 
resources. 

Before he left, Goodman Wilkins explained 
to the boys why their mother and sister had not 
come with him, and w T hy they had allowed so 
long a time to go by, without a visit. Their 
grandmother had been very ill, and though little 
Dorothy was exceedingly anxious to accompany 
her father to Hilltop — as she called it — she had 
finally given way, (though not without tears), 
and had sent “ sweetest love ” and many kisses. 
In return, the boys’ sent back a new set of birch- 
bark furniture for her dolls to play with, several 
willow whistles which were “ wondrous shrill,” 
and a pair of small gray squirrels they had cap- 
tured in a hollow oak tree near the camp. 

“ If Metacomet returneth,” said Goodman 
Wilkins to Wilfred, “ try to worm from him what 


78 


IN KING PHILIP S WAR. 


plans he hath, for I much misgive me that he 
meditateth mischief. For five years back he 
hath been collecting and training his men of war, 
holding powwahs and performing incantations, 
as our Governor calleth them, so I misfear me 
there be fire beneath all that smoke. Our settle- 
ment lays so near to Pokanoket, with only the 
broad water between, that methinks it may be 
the first to feel the weight of his murtherous arm, 
my boy.” 

“ I hope not, father,” answered the youth. “ If 
I thought aught of harm might come to you and 
our family at the farm, I would not stay here an- 
other day. Perhaps it might be better for you 
all to come hither, father; or for us to go with 
you back to the farm? ” 

“ No, my son, remain where the good Lord 
hath sent thee. My heart misgives me, now and 
then; but my trust is in the God of our fathers, 
in the God who hath so miraculously preserved 
us through trials many. Perchance King Philip 
will continue this friendship he hath begun with 
you ; try to wean him from his false idols of wood 
and stone and direct him to the true God, my son. 
This may be thy mission, remember: to win a 
soul from sin is to snatch it therefrom, as a 
brand from the burning. 


KING PHILIP WARNS HIS FRIENDS. 79 

“ I hope so, father; but I misdoubt my ability. 
Still, I shall try to turn Philip from his 
murtherous ways, if possible, and perchance he 
cometh again I will do my best to turn him from 
his project. Peradventure I find he meditateth 
harm to the settlement, and there be time to do 
so, I will burn a great beacon light on the summit 
of the hill. You can see it from the farm, from 
the south-east corner of the barn it will be full 
in sight. Wint. and I will gather the fuel for 
it to-morrow, without delay.” 

“ That is a wise measure, my son, and the Lord 
must have put the thought in thy mind. Yes, 
we will watch for the beacon-fire, and let it mean 
instant departure, peradventure there be mischief 
brewing. But whither can we go, if the settle- 
ment be attacked? ” 

“ Come hither, father dear, — all of you, at 
once the flame bursteth from the pile we shall 
build on the top of the hill. Here, with a goodly 
company to defend, we can make ourselves secure 
enough against a thousand barbarian Indians. 
Why, the very rock is a fortress in itself. Have 
you ever been atop it? No? Verily, father, 
there is space atop enough to provide accommoda- 
tion for a hundred men ! Moreover, the surface 


80 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


is sunken in the center, with a natural parapet 
all around it, full breast high. Standing lone 
and solitary as it doth, we can encircle it with 
earthworks, by trenching around-about and 
throwing up the earth, and this shall be the 
circle of our first defence. We will then build 
covered ways to the great crevices leading to 
the top of the rock — and there it is: a fortress 
within a fortification ! ” 

“Yea, son; but who will build it? You and 
Winthrop cannot labor at it all the time. It 
is a man’s work, — the work of many men, in 
sooth.” 

True, father, it is men’s work, and hence we 
shall expect you to come, the first convenient day, 
and bring as many as possible, with mattock, 
and spade, and spend no less than one day at 
the labor. In the meanwhile, I will be laying 
out the fortification — for I am a natural surveyor, 
not to say engineer, you know, — and Wint. will 
cook up a store of food against your coming.” 

Thus it was settled, and henceforth, for many 
a day (Winthrop falling heartily in with the 
plan), the two youths labored at enclosing their 
rock-camp within an earthwork not less than 
breast high, with a deep ditch or fosse without. 


KING PHILIP WARNS HIS FRIENDS. 81 

The nature of the ground aided the scheme, as 
well as the situation of the rock, for the latter 
(as already intimated) was precipitous on one 
side, where it faced the valley, and needed only 
a half-moon cut across the rounded slope that 
connected with the main ridge and the forest to 
make the situation all but impregnable. 

There was only one objectionable feature to 
this scheme, and that was that the sheepfold 
would be left outside the fort and the breastwork. 
But, as it lay directly beneath the cliff, and could 
be easily defended by a sharpshooter or two 
perched in the trees on the brink of the precipice, 
no concern was felt. A great pile of rocks an<J 
stones was made at the brink aforementioned, 
which on emergency could be toppled over the 
cliff upon the heads of any enemy rash enough 
to assail the sheepfold from that direction. 

“ All this may be a labor in vain,” remarked 
Wilfred, one day, as he and his brother toiled 
in the sun with mattock and spade, “ and if you 
say so, Wint., we’ll throw it up.” 

u Not I,” answered Winthrop, stoutly, leaning 
on his spade a while and looking about him at 
the view outspread below the hill. “ Why, Wil., 
don’t you remember that our Minister says no 
6 


82 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


labor, undertaken in the right spirit, is ever 
misspent? In the first place, we have- a motive — 
the best we could have: the preservation of our 
loved ones from the murtherous savages, per- 
adventure they attack them. 

“ In the second place, perchance they do not 
attack, we shall have a retreat of our own for 
all time to come, which can’t be surpassed for 
its natural advantages, anyway. Look at that 
view ! Isn’t it glorious? And think of the fun we 
have in making ourselves secure against all foes 
outside, of whatever kind! Then again, we are 
hardening up our muscles, and getting appetites 
|that would shame a savage. There never were 
two people anywhere who eat so much and sleep 
so well as we do, I’m mighty sure.” 

“ That’s enough,” laughed Wilfred. “ If you’re 
satisfied, I am, for I was the one that started 
the ball a-rolling. We’ll build ourselves a monu- 
ment, anyway, as well as a fortress and a home, 
for this earthwork will outlast a lifetime, I’m 
sure.” • 

And the boy was right, for, though that labor 
was performed more than two hundred years 
ago, traces of it may be seen to-day, by anyone 
curious enough to visit the historic hilltop, and 


KING PHILIP WARNS HIS FRIENDS. 83 

search amongst the trees and shrubbery with 
which it is overgrown. Local tradition will in- 
form you that a great fight took place here be- 
tween some settlers and the savages; but w r e, 
readers, w T ho have penetrated to the heart and 
soul of the matter, know that preceding that fight 
some very hard w 7 ork was done by two boys of 
our acquaintance, w 7 ho were then as eager and 
hopeful as any boys of to-day, — though they did 
live and dream and plan two hundred years and 
more ago. 

The heart of youth is ever the same, be it yester- 
day, to-day, or to-morrow T ; hence the doings of 
youth are always interesting, whether of yester- 
day, to-day, or to-morrow. Our friends of that 
period of which we write lived then ; we live now ; 
others succeed us to-morrow; but the motives 
and animating principles are ever the same. 

So, as we have seen, these boys took a vital 
interest in life as they lived it then. They took 
hold of whatever they thought good, and — what 
is of greater matter — they took hold “ good and 
hard,” doing wdth all their might the w^ork that 
lay before them. For this reason they had good 
sleep and hearty appetites, clean consciences and 
dauntless spirits. They did not peer too far 


84 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


into the future; — only just far enough to main- 
tain themselves on guard against possible sur- 
prises. 

Day by day the earthworks grew apace; day 
by day the great beacon-pile, composed of dry 
pine branches and other inflammable material, 
waxed larger and larger, until there was a heap 
nearly twenty feet in height, ready to flame up 
the instant that fire was applied at its base. 
Tinder, flint and steel were always at hand, con- 
cealed in a dry hole beneath a rock, where also 
was a wind-break so that the fire could be evoked 
without delay, or subjected to the risk of being 
extinguished, whether a storm were raging, or 
the night were fair. 

Meanw r hile, the flock was not neglected, one 
or the other of the young shepherds being on 
watch for wolves and bears, wolf-pits having been 
dug for the former, at convenient places, and the 
hook-traps scattered about in likely spots. 

Busily engaged as they were, the days chased 
each other rapidly away (it seemed to the boys) 
and the end of May had arrived and June begun 
before they were well aware of the advent of 
summer. At about the time of the longest days 
of the year, ( or a few days over a hundred years 


KING PHILIP WARNS HIS FRIENDS. 


85 


before the battle of Bunker Hill was fought), 
they became aware that something unusual was 
stirring, down in the settlement. Two boys of 
their acquaintance came up from below, one day, 
and passed the night with them. From them they 
learned that hostile Indians had been seen prowl- 
ing around Rehoboth and Swansea, and that the 
previous Sunday two of them had come boldly 
into the latter settlement and made free use of 
a settler’s grindstone. 

They well knew the day was devoted to the 
Lord, said the boys; but when the owner of the 
grindstone expostulated with them, they replied 
they knew not his God, but had one of their own, 
who was good enough for them. Then they pro- 
ceeded to sharpen their tomahawks, and de- 
parted not until they had put a tine edge on them, 
when they went to the house of another settler, 
who was at church, and stole some provisions. 

They had the saving grace of humor, it may be 
said, for, afterwards meeting a white man in a 
lonely road, they took him in custody and cate- 
chised him, telling him he should not work nor 
walk, on the Sabbath day, nor tell lies, then dis- 
missed him with a kick, and the injunction to 
remember what they had told him. 


86 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


These two were but the advance guard, as 
later events proved, of a more murderous band. 
But, before we relate what these did, let us turn 
again to the Hilltop and note what transpired at 
the camp. 

The last week in June, 1675, had arrived — a 
w r eek ever to be remembered in the history of 
New England. One evening, near the close of 
the day before that appointed by the Governor of 
the colony as one of fasting and prayer, the two 
boys sat before the door of their camp looking 
out upon the prospect spread before them, illu- 
mined by the last rays’ of the setting sun. Dur- 
ing the afternoon they had been visited by Jabe. 
Brown and Hen. Avery, who said they had infor- 
mation that Metacomet was in that vicinity, and, 
in pursuance of their scheme to ambush him wdien 
opportunity offered, they were going to lie out 
in the forest, that night, near the trail he always 
took when passing that way, from one settle- 
ment to another. 

The youths were discussing the disquieting 
things they had heard, and especially the informa- 
tion conveyed to them by Jabe. and Hen., who 
boasted that they had a warrant for their ap- 
prehension, and if not successful in waylaying 


KING PHILIP WARNS HIS FRIENDS. 87 

Philip, were bent on taking his young friends to 
Plymouth for trial before the magistrates. 

“ Then you’ll see whut’s whut, an’ who’s who, 
I guess,” Jabe had said. “ So, if ye have any 
news of Mettycomet, ye’d better disgorge.” 

“ We haven’t seen him since you were here 
last,” replied Wilfred, quietly, “ nor even heard 
from him.” 

“ Don’t b’lieve yer,” answered Jabe. and Hen. 
simultaneously; and with their tongues tucked 
into their cheeks they went off into the woods. 
That was about mid-afternoon, and the boys re- 
solved to put their camp in a posture of defence, 
in order to repel their attack, provided they 
should return with the determination still to 
take them away, as they had sworn they would 
do, in any event. 

Having herded their flock, barricaded the one 
window of their hut, and made ready to do the 
same by the door, — behind which stood the two 
flintlocks and the old firelocks, loaded each with a 
pair of slugs and four fingers of powder— they sat 
down to rest. 

The long twilight of the June afternoon carried 
daylight on till after eight o’clock, and the 
watchers were beginning to get sleepy, when they 


88 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


were saluted by a guttural “ How do? ” and 
turning in the direction of the voice, saw Philip 
standing there. 

“ Why, how did you escape? — I mean, get 
here ” — asked Winthrop, in the confusion of the 
moment betraying the thought in his mind, which 
was, as to the whereabouts of Jabe. and Hen. 
Avery. Wilfred promptly clapped a hand over 
his mouth in order to prevent any further secrets 
to escape; but it was too late. 

“ Ho ! ” ejaculated Metacomet scornfully. 
“ Easy ’nough. They two fool ! Tie ’em to tree ; 
put gag in mouth. They no trouble Metacom. 
How do? ” 

He held out his hands to the boys, and they 
welcomed him to the camp, though not without 
trepidation, being — as Jabe had expressively de- 
scribed Wilfred’s situation — “ ’twixt the divil 
and the deep sea.” 

Philip noted all, and put them somewhat at 
ease by saying : “ Me not stop long. But you my 
friend. Want tell you, something happen down 
settlement. Better get fam’ly up here, right 
’way.” 

“ Happen?” exclaimed botH boys at once. 
“ You mean ? ” 


KING PHILIP WARNS HIS FRIENDS. 


89 


“ Yes, me mean Injun kill, burn ! Bad Injun, 
no can stop ’em.” 

“Kill? Murder the white people, you mean? 
But you can stop ’em, Metacomet. You are king, 
sachem. Go, go down now, and head ’em off ! ” 
“No, no can’t do. Me sachem, yes; but can’t 
stop ’em, now. Too many; too bad, too full rum. 
Me start too big fire. Bring ten t’ousand warrior 
t’gether, hope scare white mans ; no mean harm ; 
but warrior break ’way — want kill, take scalp, 
burn house, wipe white mans all out.” 

The boys looked at him with horror depicted 
in their faces, too much overcome to say anything 
more, for they realized the hopelessness of the 
situation. Philip returned their gaze, at first 
stonily, then pityingly. “ Tell you what,” he 
finally said, “me no want kill, but me sachem; 
if no kill, they kill me. Must do ! ” 

“ No, you mustn’t,” exclaimed Wilfred, re- 
covering his voice. “ You can stop it, and you 
must ! Why should there be bloodshed? ” 

“ Don’ know, but must be. Hobbomocco say 
so ; he know.” 

“ But he doesn’t know, fool,” shouted Win- 
throp, beside himself with grief and anger. 
“ Some old divil of a medicine man told you, and 


90 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


you are simple enough to believe it ! That’s all.” 

“ Mebbe,” assented Metacomet, stolidly; “ but 
that no help now. What is, can save fam’ly, 
p’raps more; but must act quick. Only one sun 
more mans down there see; then lose scalp! 
What this you got on hill? Heap big tree, all 
dry; burn, p’raps, eh? ” 

He had seen and noted their signal-pile, and 
perhaps (the thought flashed through Wilfred’s 
brain) he might prevent them from setting off 
the flame. 

But no, it was Philip himself led the way to 
the top of the rock, and he it was struck flint and 
steel together, and lighted the flame that flared 
high into the sky, proclaiming to the doomed 
people down below their impending disaster. 

It was a strange situation : a man on murder 
bent warning his prospective victims against — 
himself ! 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE WAR'S FIRST MASSACRE. 

The grim humor of the proceeding must have 
struck Philip forcibly, for he turned to the boys, 
who were close behind him, filled with wonder- 
ment, and said, with a shrug of his broad 
shoulders: “ Huh ! what my mans think? You 
no tell Metacom light big fire ! " 

“ No, no, of course not," they hastily assured 
him. “ But," Wilfred added, after a pause, 
“ King Philip, you have already lighted a bigger 
fire than this, by inciting your warriors against 
the white people. Has it spread beyond control, 
think you. Can't you quench it? " 

“ 'Fraid not," he answered after a long silence, 
during which he seemed lost in profound thought. 
“Not want to, neither. White mans do much 
harm to Metacom ; now he pay back." He gave 
the blazing pile a vicious poke with a long pole 
91 


92 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


he held in his hand, then went back and sat down 
on a rock, with the boys. 

There and then, in the intervals' of feeding the 
flames, he narrated the story of his grievances 
against the white settlers, and of his people. 
They may have been in some measure imaginary; 
but after he had finished, neither Wilfred nor 
his brother could truthfully assert that he had 
no cause for complaint. In fact, they already 
knew as much, and though they pleaded the cause 
of their friends and the white people generally, 
it was with but faint hearts they did so. 

Here follows, however, the gist of Philip’s 
complaints, divested of the barbarisms with 
which it was clothed in his rude speech. It was 
a prevalent rumor in the settlements that Philip 
knew far more of English than he chose to reveal 
in his speech, having been instructed mainly by 
a half-brother who had received his education 
at Harvard college. This half-brother was later 
killed in battle, fighting for his people and 
against those who had endeavored to lift him 
from barbarism and into the light of civilization. 

Be this as it may be, Philip could express him- 
self with force and even elegance, at times, when 
wrought upon by the mood that followed con- 


THE WAR’S FIRST MASSACRE. 93 

templation of his people’s wrongs, and his lis- 
teners were almost persuaded that he was more 
“ sinned against than sinning.” 

The trouble began, he said, away back in 1660, 
when his brother, Alexander, died of a fever 
caused by exposure from having been arbitrarily 
summoned before the magistrates at Plymouth 
in mid-winter. His lamentable fate had so im- 
pressed Philip that he resolved, when he attained 
to the sachemship of his tribe, that he would not 
obey any such mandate from the Plymouth Pil- 
grims. In fact, he successfully evaded their sum- 
mons, by playing upon their well-known rivalry 
w 7 ith the Massachusetts authorities, appealing 
to the latter for justice which, he asserted, was 
always denied him by the Plymouth men. 

In the matter of granting lands to white set- 
tlers, Philip had always been generous, for, 
though receiving pay for them, it was in such 
contemptible sums, or nearly worthless goods in 
barter, that he soon had nothing to show for 
his once broad domain. The land, however, was 
always in evidence, and as the settlers resented 
the fact that Philip and his men still claimed the 
privilege of hunting over it at will, which they 
denied, the king saw that he had parted with his 


94 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


vast patrimony for a “ mess of pottage/ 7 — and 
as he had eaten the pottage, he felt very sore and 
heart-sick, indeed. 

But, he stifled his resentment until, having 
put one of his men to death, an interpreter named 
Sassamon, for betraying his plans to the whites, 
the authorities at Plymouth had demanded that 
the murderers of Sassamon suffer the extreme 
penalty, also, for their crime. In truth, they 
sent and arrested three Indians, whom they 
tried in court at Plymouth, before a jury com- 
posed half of Indians and half of English, and 
sentenced them to be hanged. It w T as claimed 
that they had killed Sassamon on a frozen pond, 
supposed to be the Assawomset, and then thrust 
his body through a hole in the ice, leaving his 
hat and gun outside, as though he had fallen in 
and drowned. 

This murder was committed early in the spring 
of 1675, and the body was found at the breaking 
up of the ice. Two of the Indians sentenced to 
be hung protested their innocence, and Philip 
declared they were innocent; but his protests 
were not heeded, and they were executed. This 
affair wrought the culmination of a long period 
of resentment on Philip’s part, during which he 


THE WAR’S FIRST MASSACRE. 95 

had brooded over an insult to his majesty and 
might, four years before. 

It was in 1671 that, hearing that Philip had 
been inciting the Narragansets to rebellion and 
preparing for a struggle with the white invaders 
of his territory, the Plymouth court summoned 
him to appear before it and explain his actions. 
At first he refused to obey; and it might have 
been better for him in the end if he had persisted 
in this refusal, for, finding him guilty, the au- 
thorities punished him by taking away his guns, 
to the number of seventy. Philip had appeared 
at Plymouth in all the panoply of war, with 
regalia of wampum beads, and fully armed. He 
took with him a large retinue of warriors, also 
armed, and insisted upon occupying seats in 
the meeting-house, where the trial was held, on 
the opposite side from the English. But, not- 
withstanding all his precautions, he was over- 
awed by a body of armed white men stronger 
than his own, and compelled to deliver up his 
guns. The Plymouth people took away all the 
guns he and his men had with him then, and 
Philip promised to deliver all others in their 
possession. But he was merely making the best 
of a bad bargain, at the time, and having extri- 


96 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


cated himself from the toils, never fulfilled his 
promise in respect to a complete disarmament. 

No sooner, in fact, were the enraged Warn- 
panoags once more in their forests, than they 
vowed vengeance against the English, and Philip 
bent every energy toward accomplishing the great 
desire of his heart: a union of all the New-Eng- 
land Indians against the whites. He succeeded 
in compromising the powerful Narragansets, and 
by working warily for several years, formed a 
league comprising more than ten thousand 
warriors. 

He had drawn arms and ammunition from 
every quarter: from the Dutch settlers along 
the Hudson; from disaffected English on the 
New-England coast, and even from the French 
of far-distant Canada. All this warlike material 
. was carefully hoarded, buried in pits and hollow 
trees, and concealed in dense swamps, against 
the day appointed for the bloody uprising, which 
was already determined. This day of reckoning, 
when the Indians expected to totally extirpate 
the white settlers all along the coast, was fixed 
for the early summer of 1676; but the execution 
of Sassamon (whom Philip denounced as a trai- 
tor) precipitated the catastrophe, and cost the 



“No, Metacom never stop fighting white mans till he dead ! 
He better be dead sachem than live coward ! ” Page 97. 

— In King Philip's War. 



THE WAR’S FIRST MASSACRE. 97 

New-Englanders an ultimate loss of more than 
600 lives, besides an immense amount of property. 

“ Can’t keep warriors quiet any more,” said 
Metacom, after this recital of his own and his 
people’s woes. “ Must kill somebody. Want 
blood! blood! blood! White mans’ blood ! That 
only can wash out Indian wrongs.” 

As Metacom said this he stood erect and spread 
out his arms, reaching his hands upward as if 
imploring the aid of heaven for his cause. In 
silent awe the two youths looked upon that mag- 
nificent figure, outlined against the red flames 
of the beacon-fire, and listened to the torrent of 
rude eloquence with which the injured King de- 
nounced the doings of their own race and people. 

“ No,” he shouted; “ No, Metacom never stop 
fighting white mans till he dead! He better be 
dead sachem than live coward ! ” 

With these words, he leaped aside, into the 
outer darkness, and disappeared. The boys lis- 
tened long, but no sound came back, for he had 
penetrated the woods with the stealth and noise- 
less movements of a serpent. They looked at 
each other and rubbed their eyes, as if awakened 
from a dream, a horrible nightmare; but there 
before them was the beacon-flame, now burning 
7 


98 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


low and sending forth fitful showers of sparks, 
though all around was darkness and silence. 

“ Well, we’ve got Philip’s side of it, anyway,” 
said Wilfred, at last breaking the silence. “ And 
there isn’t the least doubt in my mind that he 
told the truth, for the settlers have wronged him 
and his people from the very first. Even Massa- 
soit was cheated and hoodwinked, his lands 
stolen from him under pretence of purchase, and 
his choice hunting grounds taken.” 

“ But, I always understood,” said Winthrop, 
“ that the Pilgrims paid both Massasoit and 
Metacom for all the lands they took, and never 
seized them forcibly.” 

“ Yes, so they did ; but how much did they pay 
them? I remember one time seeing copies of 
some deeds, and the payments were something 
like this: In 1662, the settlers of Dedham pur- 
chased what is now the township of Wrentham, 
six miles square, for 24 pounds. In ’68 some of 
our people in Swansea bought 500 a res for 20 
pounds, and the year befor< Goodman Willet 
paid Philip only ten pounds for a tract a mile 
wide and two miles long! And yet, he was well 
paid, when the prices he received are compared 
with the truck that Massasoit was paid in, con- 


THE WAR’S FIRST MASSACRE. 99 

sisting mostly of beads, old nails, kettles and 
rusty muskets.” 

“ Yet methinks,” said Winthrop, “ that it be 
very foolish, not to say criminal, for Metacom 
to make war, and he will surely rue the day he 
does it.” 

“ Surely as the sun doth shine each morning,” 
assented Wilfred solemnly. “ And we must not 
allow our sympathies to blind us to the enormity 
of his acts. I misdoubt if we do not have many 
friends slain in the coming war, which may al- 
ready be waging along what we might call the 
skirmish line, down in the settlement. 

“ Did father see the signal, I wonder, and will 
he abandon the farm and bring mother and sister 
and grandmother, all, up here? ” 

“ He said he would,” answered Winthrop. 
“ God grant he may, and as many of our neigh- 
bors as he can prevail upon to leave ! ” 

“ That is their only hope, meseems. Pm all 
a-tremble, Wil., with the doubt and fear of what 
may happen next.” 

“And I. But whatever followeth, we must 
demean ourselves like men. The fort is not yet 
finished, nor is there shelter enough for many 
souls; still, we shall expect help from the others, 
when they come. 


LOFa 


100 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


In conversation, thus, the boys passed the 
night, watching and replenishing the fire, and 
speculating upon the fate of the two who had 
gone to ambush Philip in the forest. 

“ We must seek for them when daylight comes,” 
said Wilfred. “ Hark ! ” That was the report 
of a musket; and there is another! Two gun- 
fires; what can that mean? Perhaps they have 
broken loose and taken a shot at the King as he 
passed them by. I know not how else to account 
for that double discharge. What think you, 
Wint.?” 

“As you say, brother; or mayhap Metacom 
hath shot them both.” 

“ I misdoubt that. He is greatly wrought upon 
by the recounting of his wrongs; but I do not 
think Metacom w r ould kill them in cold blood, 
gagged and unarmed as they were.” 

The youths were left long in doubt, or until 
daybreak, when, at its first dawning, appeared 
the two for whose safety they had feared. Their 
skins were whole, and both carried the muskets 
with which they had departed; but their de- 
meanor was changed. Like whipped curs, or 
wolves caught in a pit, they sneaked into camp 
and sat down on a log, at first without a word, 


THE WAR’S FIRST MASSACRE. 101 

then humbly responding only when first ad- 
dressed by their friends. 

“ Oh, nawthin’,” finally answered Hen. Avery, 
in response to the repeated questions as to what 
had happened. “ Leastwise, not much.” 

“ Nawthin’ much but what yew know ’bout 
a’ready,” added Jabe. “ Guess yer friend’s told 
yer, so what’s the use?” 

“ Hold on, Jabe.,” exclaimed Hen., “ Don’t fer- 
git the promise. Boys, s’pose we might’s well 
spit her out now’s any time, an’ the gist of it is 
that Metacom give us our lives on we agreein’ 
to make peace with yew fellers an’ jine agin’ the 
common inemy, which is them all-fired Injuns. 
He says they’s great carryin’s on down in th’ 
settlemunt, and if we values our skins we’d better 
stay right here.” 

“ Well, you’re welcome,” replied Wilfred. 
“ The only question is, do you value your skins 
more’n the lives of them that’s dear to us down 
in the plain? Shall we stay here, or go and join 
in the fight? ” 

“As tew that air,” interjected Jabe., “seems 
t’ me if the mischief’s to be done, it’s done 
a’ready, and the best thing we can do is tew stay. 
Havin’ saved our skins by the skin of our teeth, 


102 IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 

so to say, we kinder valyoo ’em pooty high, jest 
naow, eh, Hen.?” 

“That’s the talk, Jabe. But mine’s pooty 
empty — speakin’ of skins. Ain’t got any licker of 
any sort up here, have ye, Bill? I been a-spittin’ 
cotton ever sence that durned Injun — I mean 
King Philup, an’ wouldn’t say a word agin him 
for th’ world ! — took that air gag out’n my mouth, 
an’ I’m ’s empty ’s a drum that’s been beat a 
week.” 

“ I b’lieve there some of father’s hard cider 
left,” answered Wilfred; “but as Wint. and I 
drink nothing but water, I can’t vouch for it.” 

“ Don’t ask yer to, do we, Jabe? We’ll do the 
vouchin’. Jest keep yer eyes skinned an’ see us 
do it, that’s all.” 

Little time was lost by the pair in hunting 
out the cider jug and “ sampling ” what it con- 
tained. It was evidently very satisfactory, for 
the jug was passed quite frequently from one to 
the other, and when they got through the last 
one tipped it up very nearly perpendicular to 
the horizon. 

“ That’s the stuff,” said Hen., w T hile both 
smacked their lips with satisfaction. “ Now 
I feel ’bout right, an’ ain’t got no inmity ’g’inst 


THE WAR’S FIRST MASSACRE. 103 

nobody, not even Philicomet, or whatever he 
calls hisself. But say, what’s that noise down 
below? Sound. somethin’ like a boss a-comin’ up 
th’ hill. An’ by gum, it is a hoss, sure’s your 
born, an’ a lot of people behind of him, too ! ” 

“ Old Whitey,” exclaimed Winthrop, jumping 
to his feet; “ and father, and all the family! Oh, 
Wil., they’re safe ! they’re safe ! ” 

“ Safe so far, anyway, thank God ! ” devoutly 
exclaimed his brother, joining in the race to meet 
the refugees, who, owing to the steepness of the 
ascent, had almost reached the brow of the hill 
before they were discovered. 

“ Oh, father, mother, then you did see the 
beacon fire? And you brought Dorothy, and 
grandmother — and the cat. See, Wint., they’ve 
got even old Sam. You must have had plenty 
of time to get ready, then, father. Had the In- 
juns really reached there ere you left?” 

“ Hold on a bit, Wil., my son, till we’re all 
safe alighted. There now, folks, here we are. 
Whoa, Whitey ! Git down, mother. Take your 
sister, Win. She ain’t a bit sorry to be here, I’ll 
wage ; nor, as to that, air any of us, either though 
’twas ruther suddin, howsomever — ” 

Goodman Wilkins looked around with a sigh 


104 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


of relief, but his brow clouded at sight of Jabe. 
and Hen. standing deferentially by. He didn’t 
like the sight of them anyway, on general prin- 
ciples; but just now there was such a change 
from their wonted demeanor that he looked 
at them open-mouthed, seemingly astonished. 
“ What’s struck you two, anyhow?” he asked. 
“ Look’s though ye’d been thrashed ! ” 

“ Guess we hev, pooty nigh it,” answered Hen., 
sheepishly. “ P’raps you wouldn’t look this way 
if you’d had a chip in your mouth all night’s we 
have.” 

“ What! th’ Injuns been here, too? ” 

“ One on ’em has, an’ the biggest rooster ’f the 
gang, too.” 

“ Sho ! Ye don’t say so. I thought he’s down 
firin’ the village.” 

“ No, father,” interposed Wilfred, who was 
holding little Dorothy in his arms, and kissing 
her plump red cheeks, while Winthrop was 
similarly engaged with his mother; “No, father, 
it was Philip that fired the beacon-pile, in order 
to give you warning.” 

“Wha-at? That savage give us a warnin’? 
Why, when we left, his men were killin’ cattle 
and firin’ into buildin’s, and makin’ ready to burn 


THE WAR’S FIRST MASSACRE. 105 

Parson Miles’ garrison-house. I tried to git the 
parson to come along; and as to that, we urged 
all that we could find to j’ine us up here on the 
hill; but none of ’em would listen, so we come 
alone.” 

“ Had anybody been killed when you left, 
father? ” asked Wilfred. 

“Not’s I know of; but it wa’n’t any fault of 
the Injuns, for they was firin’ their muskets fast 
enough by th’ time we was packed. Why, the 
fields was full of ’em, all at once, and they seemed 
to have dropped down out of the clouds. And 
work quick? Why, our house was a-burnin’ be- 
fore we had gained the w T oods. 

“ Our home gone? Oh dear! But ’twas lucky 
you saw the fire, wasn’t it? You might have been 
burned up in it, mightn’t you? ” 

“ Looks that way Wil., my son. But, bless the 
Lord for all His mercies, we’re all safe, so far, 
and here will we abide.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


KING PHILIP TAKES REVENGE. 

The twenty-fifth of June, 1675, was a memora- 
ble day in New England’s calendar, for then were 
hostilities actually commenced in the great 
“ King-Philip’s War,” which placed the instigator 
of them beyond the pale of forgiveness. Hitherto, 
as in the proceedings of 1671, the English had 
striven to keep peace with Philip, and had 
winked at his enormities when he faithfully 
promised to be their friend henceforward. But 
in the four years intervening, as it was now 
shown beyond a doubt, he had been secretly in- 
citing all the neighboring tribes to join with him 
in open rebellion. Only the death of Sassamon, 
bringing about a maturing of his schemes’ a year 
in advance of the time he had set, revealed his 
perfidy in all its hideousness. 

Close after the arrival of Goodman Wilkins 
106 


KING PHILIP TAKES REVENGE. iqT 

and his family at the Hilltop Fort — as we shall 
hereafter call the boys’ retreat — came several fu- 
gitives from the settlement, bearing tidings of 
more distressful proceedings than any he and his 
had heard or experienced. 

Among these fugitives was the beloved and 
devoted Minister of the Swansea congregation, 
Rev. John Miles, w T ho, from his militant propen- 
sities was known as the “ fighting parson.” It 
was in his house, (which, being larger than any 
other in the settlement, had been fortified and 
garrisoned,) that many of the inhabitants took 
refuge, when it was known that the Indians were 
decidedly hostile. “ Parson Miles’ garrison,” as 
it was called, became afterward widely known 
through the gallant defense its inmates made at 
the outbreak of the war. 

Having come from Swansea in Wales, he may 
have bestowed upon the settlement in America 
the name by which it was known. At all events, 
he was minister of the first Baptist church in 
Massachusetts, which was established at Reho- 
both, a few miles distant from Swansea, to which 
latter place he removed a few years before the 
outbreak of the war. Highly respected by all, he 
was a force for good in the community, and nat- 


108 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


urally looked up to as a leader in any movement 
for its betterment or defense. 

He had escaped from the garrison in the night, 
while it was but imperfectly beleaguered by the 
Indians, and made his way to the Fort, in order 
to ascertain if it would provide a safe retreat 
from the settlement, in case of necessity. Good- 
man Wilkins was a deacon in his church, of which 
he was a “ pillar of support,” whose advice was 
often sought by the parson — but not always 
taken. 

The Goodman had urged him strongly to ac- 
company 'him in retreat; but the Parson thought 
his duty lay with his flock, gathered in the gar- 
rison house, so would not consent. Thinking the 
matter over, however, he came to the conclusion 
that if the Indians multiplied as they had already 
increased around the settlement, the holding out 
of his garrison was merely a matter of a few 
days, and had acted upon this conviction. 

Although he had desired to bring with him all 
the non-combatants: the helpless women, the 
sick, and the children; yet the risks were too 
great, so he had come alone, bringing only his 
musket and a pack of provisions on his back. 

“ For all his many mercies, bless the Lord ! 


KING PHILIP TAKES REVENGE. 


109 


exclaimed the Parson fervently, as, discovered 
approaching by an outpost, he was warmly wel- 
comed within the Fort. 

“ Nay, I cannot tarry long with ye, for my 
flock below are in need of succor, and I e’en must 
soon return. And how have we fared? Ill, full 
sore have we suffered, though it be but a night 
and a day since ye left us, my brethren and sis- 
ters. 

“ That wary pagan, Metacom, hath now his re- 
venge, which for four years he hath plotted since 
the death of his warriors who so foully slew the 
praying Indian, Sassamon. He hath already 
smitten us full sore, and methinks this be but 
the beginning of ye bloody war so long meditated 
by those barbarian savages. 

“ Immediately ye left, or only yestere’en, some 
savages appeared in a field adjoining the house of 
brother White and most barbarously slew some 
cattle therein grazing. Then they had the ex- 
ceeding impudence to enter the house and de- 
mand strong drink, yea — a noggin of rum — no 
less, would suffice them, heathen pagans that 
they were. Well, that insolence was more than 
Goodman W r hite had the patience to endure, and 
when they gathered together aside, meditating 


110 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


murther, perchance, he, to impress them with his 
means of defense, let fly a shot which wounded 
one of them in ye thigh. 

This, it seemeth, was all those savages awaited, 
for it is a common tradition amongst them that 
the side which fires the first shot in a war shall 
be the one defeated in the end ! By directions of 
Metacom, ? tis said, they refrained from firing 
that first, most fateful shot, and for the reason 
aforesaid, urged on our settlers, by their many 
and unprovoked barbarities, until they were ex- 
asperated beyond what their temper could en- 
dure. Hence resulted that fatal firing of ye 
musket by said Goodman White, and the wound- 
ing of ye savage, whom his companions, (with 
great manifestation of rage, albeit with glee, to 
think their artful scheme had prevailed) has- 
tened away to acquaint Metacom (’tis said) of 
the happening, which so far furnished him with 
excuse for further villainy.” 

“ But, were any of our friends slain, or injured 
aught,” asked Mother Wilkins, voicing the ques- 
tion all would fain have put. 

“ Yea, sister, that they were,” answered Parson 
Miles. “ Presently I shall come to that ; but all 
things in order, sister.” 


KING PHILIP TAKES REVENGE. m 

The good man was accustomed to arrange his 
material for sermons in regular divisions, and 
proceed leisurely through the various “ fifthlys ” 
“ sixthlys,” and “ lastlys ” to the end, despite the 
impatience of his listeners. So on this occasion, 
though evidently filled almost to bursting with 
news of dire happenings, he still would have his 
way in communicating it. 

“ Yea, indeed there hath been bloody doing 
down below, and, if rumor be correct, more than 
eight of our people, including some of Pocasset 
and Kickamuit, have been most murtherously 
slain ! ” 

“ Eight, already?” exclaimed his awed listen- 
ers. 

“ No less, friends, no less. In the first in- 
stance, two men of the Plymouth company were 
killed when on their way to, and in sight of, my 
own garrison house. I knew them not; but 
suffice it they were our fellow-citizens, of our 
blood and breed, and it irked me that they 
should not have gained the shelter of my house. 
Inasmuch that I and others by me fired a volley 
at ye bloody band as they appeared in the high- 
way leading hither, and, we think, laid low at 
least two of the raging pagans. 


112 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


“ Neither knew I the six who were slain, soon 
after, at Matapoit; but they, also, were country- 
men of ours and entitled to our assistance — 
which, alas, we could not bestow. And moreover, 
upon their mangled bodies did those vile heathen 
wreak their vengeful, brutish barbarities, for 
they beheaded them, every one, dismembered 
them, and set their heads and limbs upon tall 
poles by the roadside, in order to strike ye damp 
of terror into all who might behold them ! ” 

This sad tale was greeted with exclamations of 
pity, terror and distress, by the little company 
assembled within the Fort, and there was dire 
misgiving in the hearts of all. 

“ The blow hath fallen, then,” said Goodman 
Wilkins, sadly. “ I had hoped it might have been 
averted, Parson. What think’st thou? ” 

“ Much I misfear it hath its course to run, — 
that plague which Metacom hath started, so far 
hath it become disseminate. Hitherto we have 
brought said sachem to reason, held him within 
bounds, by treaty full oft, and by depriving him 
of firearms; but now, it to me seemeth, he hath 
burst beyond all bounds.” 

“ Are you sure that Metacomet was in Swan- 


KING PHILIP TAKES REVENGE. H3 

sea? ” asked Wilfred, “ It might have been some- 
one else who committed the deeds.” 

“ Some one else, yea, forsooth,” answered the 
Parson ; “ but whomsoever it may have been, they 
were inspired by the devilish spirit of the sachem 
you call Metacomet, Philip, or whatever.” 

“ Bill, and Wint. air mighty good friends of the 
heathen,” said Hen. Avery, who, with Jabe. 
Brown, had overheard the conversation, being 
now considered as of the garrison. “ Mighty 
good friends, they be, and you’d better not sass 
him when they’re ’round, lemme tell ye.” 

The Parson’s scorn of these two unregenerate 
members of the community in which he dwelt 
was equaled only by that of Goodman Wilkins, 
(but not excelled), for they had been as thorns 
in the sides of both parson and deacon for many 
years. But still, he could not quite ignore this 
pointed allusion to the intimacy existing be- 
tween the sachem and his young friends, so he 
asked them how true it was that they had a 
friendship with the chief. 

They frankly admitted the charge, and told 
their pastor all about the first meeting, as well 
as the last. He listened attentively, then thought 
a while before he said : “ I cannot see that either 
8 


114 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


of you hath been culpable. You did not seek 
the acquaintance of Metacom; but to the con- 
trary, it seemeth, he sought yours. It may be 
good might come of this, peradventure it were 
followed up and the sachem induced to listen to 
reason and argument. What say, Wilfred, my 
son, would you be willing to seek out this raging 
beast of a King and endeavor once more to make 
him call quits? I cannot say that he hath not 
gone too far ever to be pardoned by the colonial 
court ; but at least he might be driven into exile, 
without his life paying forfeit for his misdeeds.” 

“ I would be willing,” answered Wilfred, “ and 
I fear not Philip nor his followers; but I’m sure 
it would be a bootless mission. Remember, sir, 
that he is already forfeit of his life in regards to 
the affair of Sassacom ; for there be no doubt the 
court intended to hang him, once they got him 
in their power. Philip knew this so well he 
hath held aloof, and it is not likely he will of his 
own motion place his head within the hangman’s 
noose, which is now dangling from the gallow- 
tree at Plymouth. There are two sides to this 
story of Sassamon’s murder. Philip hath told 
me his side ; and we ail know the other.” 

“ Be careful, lad, be careful. Do not say thou 


KING PHILIP TAKES REVENGE. H5 

takest sides with this unregenerate pagan, who 
hath mocked our religion, laughed to scorn our 
ministers and laiw-givers, besides having com- 
mitted murder — yea, murders many, ’tis like — 
the headstrong, heartless wretch that he is.” 

Thus the Parson cautioned this young member 
of his flock, having the right to admonish, even 
to chastise, if he saw fit. 

“ Didn’t I tell ye, Parson, he’s a good friend 
of the king,” said Hen. Avery with a chuckle. 
“ He’s all the time a-stickin’ up for the varmint, 
e’enamost ’s though he’s his own kin.” 

“ Since I’m the only one w T ho defends King 
Philip,” answered Wilfred slowly, and without 
taking notice of Hen. Avery’s sneer, “ it can 
matter little what I say, being in the minority. 
But, you have said it when you have called him 
‘ king! ’ That is the gist of the whole matter, for, 
as he himself told me, peradventure he be king 
— and he hath long been recognized as such — 
why, then, do not the court and other dignitaries 
treat him as such? ” 

“ ‘ Let the king of England send me an embas- 
sador,’ he hath said, ‘and with him I will treat; 
but not with his acknowledged servants. I serve 
no man,’ he said, furthermore, ‘and to no man 


116 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


bow the knee! These servants of the English 
king would sign treaties with me, as if I were a 
king; but they scan all my doings and threaten 
me with punishment, as I might be of a truth 
their serving-man and even slave/ ” 

“ Sooth, Metacom hath a sturdy pleader in 
thee, son Wilfred. But let not thy liking for 
him lead thee astray. Being thus, however, thou 
art the very one to send in search of him, and, 
once found, to reason with him, plead, if neces- 
sary, — to cause him to turn about, recant, and 
abandon the evil of his ways.” 

“ Dost think it necessary that he should go, 
Minister?” asked Wilfred’s mother, having 
listened silently, but with blanching cheeks, to 
the conversation that led up to this decision. 
“ He is full young, methinks, to entrust with 
such a mission. And — and, having been sepa- 
rated from us, now, two months and more, we 
have looked forward to some weeks of tarrying 
in his company.” 

“ Sister Wilkins,” replied the Parson, with an 
assumption of sternness which (let us hope) he 
did not feel, “ thou art the last one I should ex- 
pect to find weak-kneed, in a cause like this, and 
at a time like this. Dost not know that many 


KING PHILIP TAKES REVENGE. H7 

precious lives — perchance hundreds, or thou- 
sands, may hang upon his 1 decision? Remember, 
sister, the injunctions of Holy Writ, with which 
the good Book aboundeth, to give all, without 
reserve, to the cause of the Lord. This, our 
cause, is certainly that of the Lord and the 
righteous on one side, and that of the devil and 
the unregenerate heathen on the other.” 

“ Yes, I know,” rejoined the mother; “ but he 
is my first-born, e’en though yet young, and 
alway he hath been as the apple of my eye. If 
I felt convinced he should go, I would ” 

“ Then be thou convinced, sister Wilkins,” ex- 
claimed the imperious parson, “ for the cause 
demandeth it. I say it, and let that suffice. 

“ When can you go, my son? The sooner the 
better.” 

“ To-morrow, anytime,” answered Wilfred. 
“ But, I do not know the whereabouts of Metacom 
at present. It may be sending me off on a wild- 
goose chase, anyway. Would it not be better to 
await some tidings of him, reverend sir? Per- 
haps he may appear soon at this place; perhaps 
he may be far away — I know not.” 

“ Time is most precious,” rejoined the Parson; 
“ but, as thou sayest, it were better to await 


118 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


some tidings of the pagan’s whereabouts. I will 
bide here one day more; for I can add nothing to 
the strength of the garrison, peradventure I de 
scend. Meanwhile, we will pray without ceasing 
pray for guidance in this momentous matter. 
For the Lord is our Shepherd ; we shall not want, 
we shall not go astray, if we place our faith iu 
Him.” 

“ Amen,” fervently exclaimed Goodman Wil- 
kins and his wife. 

“ We are but clay in the hands of the potter,” 
continued the former. “ Howsoever the Lord 
formeth us, it is the shape we are to take ; where- 
ever He leadeth us, that is the direction we shall 
go. My son, thou wilt obey the commands of the 
Lord, as expressed through this, His servant.” 

“ I will, father,” assented Wilfred earnestly. 
“ I have no other wish.” 

“ But I’d like to go with Wil.,” now spoke up 
his brother. “ We two can do much more than 
either one alone. Besides, I hate to have him 
go all by himself. He might find himself in peril, 
and ” 

“ No, my son,” hastily interposed his mother. 
“ It is not necessary, I’m sure, for both my chil- 
dren to be offered up, a sacrifice. Not both.” 


KING PHILIP TAKES REVENGE. H9 

61 Nay, not both,” exclaimed the father, look- 
ing toward the Minister wistfully, yet with an 
expression in his face which plainly said : “ even 
though thou slayest me, yet will I obey.” , 

“ Nay, nay, only one,” replied the Parson. 
“ Think not me cruel, dearest sister and brother; 
but I view the matter in the capacity of judge, 
impartially, having in mind the best good of all.” 

“ We misdoubt not,” said Goodman Wilkins, 
and his wife bowled her head. To this humble 
assent there might have been a protest, had little 
Dorothy been awake ; but during all the conversa- 
tion she had slumbered in her brother’s arms. 
Imprinting a kiss on her lips, he gave her in 
charge of her grandmother, who was weeping 
silently by, though having taken no part in the 
discussion. 

“ God will go with thee, my child,” she said, 
with a feeble attempt to smile through her tears. 
“ Put your trust in Him ; fear not the heathen. 
They have raged, lo, these many years, and have 
not prevailed against the chosen of the Lord ! ” 

“ Nor will they ever,” added the youth, patting 
her withered cheek and bending over to kiss her 
forehead. “ I have no fear, grandma, and no 
more should you have here while I am gone. 


120 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


“ Of course, it would be pleasanter, far, to stay 
here with you, now that we are assembled once 
more together ; but it may not be for long I shall 
be absent. Sooth to say, however, I know not 
where or how to proceed; but the day may show.” 

All unexpectedly, the day did show, before its 
ending, a way for reaching the King, for his 
whereabouts were revealed by a messenger who r 
came, with tidings direct, that he was then at 
his ancient seat, Mount Hope, or Pokanoket. 


CHAPTER IX. 


A GREAT INDIAN FIGHTER APPEARS. 

The time set for Parson Miles’ departure had 
arrived, and, in default of other direction in 
which to turn, Wilfred was to accompany him 
down to the Garrison. So they set out together, 
Wilfred in advance, in order to break away from 
the leave-takings, to which he was adverse. He 
carried, besides his musket, a pack of wolf skins 
and scalps, and some skins of foxes, also, which 
he and his brother had snared in early spring, 
when the fur was at its best, thick, soft and of 
good color. 

From these spoils of the forest the boys hoped 
to obtain a large reward for their skill and prow- 
ess; not in money, but in barter, and it was Wil- 
fred’s intention first to deposit the pack at the 
garrison house, and on his return take it to Taun- 
ton, where the proper officials resided who paid 
121 


122 IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 

bounties for wolf-scalps, and where was situated 
the only trading-post, or store, of consequence. 

As the good Parson tarried behind for quite a 
while, Wilfred strolled along leisurely, with his 
musket in the hollow of his arm, eye and ear alert 
for signs of savages. Merely because the trail 
or road from Swansea to Hilltop had not been 
frequented as yet by Indians, was no reason, he 
rightly thought, that there might not be some in 
that vicinity; so he kept on the watch. About 
half way down the great hill his vigilance was 
rewarded by the sight of a prowling figure on the 
edge of the wood bordering the roadway — a 
human figure at that — very evidently as anx- 
ious not to be seen as Wilfred w T as to get a 
glimpse of it. The two had probably caught 
sight of each other at the same time, and both 
dodged back into the friendly shelter of the trees 
at once. Then ensued an amusing rivalry be- 
tween the two presumptive enemies, — for the 
boy assumed the moving object to be an Indian, 
of course — each trying to outwit the other by 
practising what he knew of the art of woodcraft. 

Although neither, at the outset, arrived in 
sight of the other, each knew, of course, that he 
was contriving to get a shot without himself be- 


A GREAT INDIAN FIGHTER APPEARS. 123 

in g seen. They were steadily approaching — as 
the sequel showed — and at first, though all was 
silent, no noise breaking the stillness save the 
cawing of crows, and the tapping of a wood- 
pecker’s bill on the trunk of a dead tree, 
finally Wilfred’s trained ear detected a crackling 
sound. His heart and his body stood still (it 
seemed to him) at the same moment, and placing 
his ear to the ground he listened intently for a 
repetition of the startling sound. 

Soon it came, although slightly different from 
the other, yet much nearer. He was then 
stretched at full length behind a log that lay 
prostrate on the earth, and, as he knew very well, 
if he could but raise his head he might perceive 
the object he sought to know more about. Then 
flashed into his mind the recollection of a trick 
an old trapper had taught him, and he at once 
put it in practice. It was this: to place his 
cap on the end of his ramrod, and then slowly 
lift it above the log, as if he were himself peer- 
ing over to get a look at the enemy. 

The instant he did so — as he expected — there 
rang out the report of a firearm, and a bullet 
ploughed through the cap on the ramrod. In- 
stantly, Wilfred lowered the rod, as if the head 


124 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


presumably within it had fallen to the ground, 
and then, with wildly-beating heart, but with 
steady nerves and musket held firmly, he leaped 
to his feet. 

The wood was thick in front of him, being more 
open near the ground than at the height of his 
head; but he heard the sound of someone break- 
ing through the underbrush, rapidly approaching, 
and soon saw the figure of a man. 

Up went his flintlock to his shoulder, and, up 
went that of the aproaching man, also. But, 
instead of firing at each other, the would-be con- 
testants awaited, with their muskets leveled, 
each what the other had to say. The invader was 
the first to break silence, which he did in a 
stentorian voice, exclaiming : 

“ So it was a boy that fooled me, eh? A mere 
sapling, at that, fooled the old Indian fighter, 
Captayne Benjamin Church, who ought to have 
known better than to be taken in by a trick like 
that. Where you from, Boy? And where’ d you 
learn that trick? ” 

“ Up above,” answered Wilfred, lowering his 
musket. “ Oh, that dodge I learned of old Ben 
Jackson. As you say, it is simple, and I won- 
der ” 


A GREAT INDIAN FIGHTER APPEARS. 125 

“ Of course you do, my boy — you wonder how 
it took me in. But, I was thinking only that 
there was an Injun in front of me, sure enough; 
and didn’t expect to find one of my kind. 

“ But, what d’ you mean by c up above? ’ 
Didn’t know there was anything beyond this 
p’int but forest and wilderness, except perhaps 
a pasture or two, where they put out their sheep.” 

“ That’s it,” answered Wilfred. “ One of those 
pastures belongs to father, so my brother and I 
have been up there tending the sheep ever since 
last April. We’ve got a fort there, too, a re- 
fuge.” 

“ You have, hey? Well, I’d like to see it, I 
vum! Didn’t know there was anything beyond 
this p’int,” he repeated, “ so your coming sort of 
s’prised me. Who’s your father? Goodman 
Wilkins, you say? Sho! He’s one of the oldest 
friends I’ve got. I live down to what they call 
Sogkonate, in the Injun language, but what I 
call Little Compton, where I’ve got a farm. 

“ Leastwise, I had one, but guess by this time 
the savages have done their best to turn it back 
to a wilderness ag’in. That’s what we call 
‘ turnin’ Injun,’ you know, — when land that’s 
been once cultivated runs wild ag’in. And, 


126 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


seems to me, there’ll be a lot of it that way soon, 
if we don’t check Metacom in his rampagings.” 

“ Yes, indeed,” assented Wilfred. “ That’s 
what we all think, and that’s what Minister 
Miles says. You know him, don’t you? He’s 
right behind me somewhere, coming down the 
hill.” 

“ Know him? Know Parson Miles, the Welsh- 
man? Guess I do, and it’s from his garrison 
I’ve just come. We had a bit of a scrimmage 
there last night, but beat the pagans away after 
a stiff fight, and losing seven of our number by 
bullets. 

“ Yes, seven, I’m sorry to say ; but you don’t 
know ’em, tain’t likely, being’s they’re Massa- 
chusetts soldiers, just arrove. 

“ Ha, there’s the Parson ! Look at him, now, 
marching along with a musket on his shoulder, 
just like any scout or soldier. But, he don’t keep 
the watch out that a scout might, I must confess. 
He’s prob’bly thinkin’ of his next Sabbath’s ser- 
mon, and laying dow T n the law to saints and 
sinners. 

“ Hello, Parson. What ye up to, eh? Ain’t 
going to shoot Injuns, be ye?” 

Thus rudely interrupted in his meditations, 


A GREAT INDIAN FIGHTER APPEARS. 127 

Parson Miles drew up suddenly and looked 
around in a dazed sort of fashion. But when his 
gaze alighted on the pair of watchers by the road- 
side his eye brightened, and he advanced with 
hand extended. 

“ Well, well, well, Captain Church, how came 
you here? I know what brings you — the exi- 
gency of war; but you are expeditious, my good 
sir. It is a far distance from here to Little Comp- 
ton.” 

“ Yes, Minister, that’s the truth; but travel 
fast and far we must, when the country needs 
our services. Only three days ago I had a con- 
fab, long and serious, with the Governor and 
court at Plymouth, who desired me to hasten 
hither and collect some yeomen for to ferret out 
that conspirator against our peace, Metacomet, 
who, I hear, yet harbors at his seat at Pokanoket. 

“ Ha, sayest thou so? Then thou art for going 
thither, Captain, of a surety, since always thou 
art at the forefront of the fray.” 

“ You have said it, Parson, and I was but beat- 
ing up some yeomen for company when I chanced 
across this young blade. And, faith, he all but 
put me out of business, old warrior that I am!” 

“ How so? ” asked the minister. And he was 


128 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


at first greatly shocked, then as greatly diverted, 
at learning of the artifice by which Wilfred drew 
the veteran’s fire. 

“ Sooth, you cannot do less than take him with 
you, Captain — at least, so far as he desires to 
go, for to a certain point you two are in accord: 
that is, both are in search of Metacom.” 

“ Is that so, youngster? Wouldst kill the 
fiendish pagan? ” 

“ No, not I,” stoutly answered the youth. “ I 
would, rather, save his life, peradventure it were 
endangered, than shed his blood.” 

“ Oh, ho ! Then thou’rt not the blade I’m look- 
ing for, my boy. For, knowest thou not, this is 
to be a war to the death, knife and tomahaw 7 k to 
sword and musket; and no quarter asked on 
e-ther side.” 

“ Be that so,” rejoined Wilfred, “ I would yet 
seek to avert blood-shed by both sides. Our skins 
are different from those of the foe; but the same 
kind of blood flows through our veins, I believe.” 

“ Nay, nay, boy; not so! Believe me, though 
both bloods may be of the same color, yet me- 
thinks they have different virtues. In the san- 
guineous stream of t’other side are carried ma- 
lignant humors that defy correction. Only by 


A GREAT INDIAN FIGHTER APPEARS. 129 

letting of it out can we make its owners good and 
virtuous, fit to be citizens conjointly with us.” 

“ But then they would be dead. Meanest thou, 
sir, that they should all be killed?” 

“ Nay, not all, only the bad ones.” 

“ But, how would you discriminate? ” 

“ Out of their own mouths shall they be con- 
demned,” interposed the Minister. “ But, a truce 
to this parleying, my friends. This youth, Cap- 
tain, desires to find Metacom in order to propose 
a truce, or perchance a cessation of hostilities, 
and since thou knowest his whereabouts, thou art 
the man for the business.” 

“ Yea, am I,” answered the fighter. “ But 
it irks me to take thither an emissary of peace, 
when my conviction sure is that the only satis- 
factory one is a bullet sent direct at the heart 
of said proud pagan. 

“ Still, the lad is stout and plucky. Let him 
try his plan, and thereafter will be time enough 
to try mine — which is sword and bullet.” 

“ Then he goes with thee, Captain?” 

“ If he choose. I like the lad too well, however, 
to deliver him into the hands of the enemy. It 
is almost certain death, in my opinion, for him to 
’proach Metacom in his present temper.” 

9 


130 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAP. 


“ Fll chance it,” responded Wilfred. “ Me* 
thinks I know him well enough to have no doubt 
as to my welcome.” 

“ Yea, well enow, perchance ; but yet there are 
his sub-chiefs, or sagamores , to be considered. 
Know ye not, my friends, that it was on account 
of what he called Philip's white-livered surren- 
der of his arms, that one of his sagamores de- 
serted him for the settlers' side? 

“ ‘ I'll fight on the side of the fire-guns,' said 
the sub-chief ; ‘ and so be it Metacom hath sur- 
rendered his, I go over to the side of the 
Umpame men men ' — as he called the Plymouth 
colonists. 

“ So, as I said, and here now repeat, there be 
many minds to satisfy other than that of Meta- 
com, even peradventure he be inclined for peace 
— which is the most preposterous thing to enter- 
tain in the world.” 

“ But you'll take me with you, and perchance 
the opportunity presents, that will allow me to 
attempt to reach the sachem?” 

“ Yea, that will I. But, if thy life be lost, or 
thy blood be shed vainly, blame not me for that. 

“ Now, let me tell ye, Minister, what I have 
already done in order to prevail upon these 


A GREAT INDIAN FIGHTER APPEARS. 131 

heathen savages for to surrender and give over 
their designs’. 

“ Thou knowest, Minister, the Indianess called 
the Squaw-Sachem — as she is styled, — of Pocas- 
set. She is near of kin to Metacom, some say 
half-sister; but, notwithstanding, she be well in- 
clined toward the Plymouth colonists. How- 
somever, as my way hither led through her lands, 
I tarried to have parley with her. 

“ First, however, I passed through the lands 
pertaining to that other Indian sachemess, Awa- 
shonks of the Sogkonates, near my place. 

“ I had heard that emissaries of Philip had in- 
cited a dance, which, you know, is the sure pre- 
cursor of war. And sure enough, when I arrived 
at her wigwam, there were hundreds of painted 
warriors there, within and round about, and 
Awashonks herself, in a foaming sweat, was lead- 
ing of the dance. 

“ She received me civilly enow, and broke off 
her own part in the performance — though the 
others continued, unmindful of my presence — 
and sat down with me to parley. At the same 
time she called to six of Philip’s men — who, it 
seemeth, had come to make the dance and invite 
her to partake in the uprising — to join with us. 


132 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


“ So there I was, surrounded by the heathens, 
the men of Metacom being all in war-paint, their 
ugly faces painted black and their bristly hair 
combed up atop their heads adorned with fish- 
hawk’s feathers. They had their powder-horns, 
too, and bullet-bags at their backs, — which 
proved to me that they were rigged for war. I 
felt of their bullet-pouches and finding there 
great store, asked them, civilly enow, what they 
were for? The impudent scoundrels stuck 
their tongues in their cheeks and answered, to 
shoot white wolves with , and made no bones of 
saying they were the sort of wolves that walked 
on two legs, too ! 

“ Now, what think ye of that, Parson Miles? 
I' faith, it made my blood to boil, and, all unas- 
sisted as I was by friend of my own blood, I 
turned to the Squaw-Sachem, Awashonks, and 
said, said I, loud enow for all to hear: ‘ The best 
thing for you would be to knock these Pokanoket 
villains on the head, else will ye be involved in 
war from which no red-skin will survive ! ’ 

“And how took they this advice? Well, the 
Pokanokets blustered a bit ; but soon they made 
excuse to be gone, and went outside to get their 
muskets. I fully expected to be waylaid on the 


A GREAT INDIAN FIGHTER APPEARS. 133 

journey hither; but as thou seest, here am I, 
at thy service, and ready to march to-morrow 
against the heathen in their lairs! 

“ Did I win over Awashonks? Yea, did I, for 
she hath agreed to assemble all her warriors and 
make for the region beyond the Assawomset 
ponds (near Middleborough), where the Ply- 
mouth people shall protect her from all harm. 

“ Thus have I secured at least five hundred 
innocent heathen from pursuing the ways of Met- 
acom, and diverting them into the right road, 
which leadeth to peace. 

“ After that I also saw the Squaw Sachem of 
Pocasset, and she hath promised to consider, but 
hath not yet dismissed the emissaries of Metacom, 
who were dancing like fiends around her wig- 
wam and gradually drawing in her followers. 

“ This is the manner in which the wily Met- 
acom exciteth warlike desires in the minds of his 
barbarious kindred. She is well-disposed toward 
us, but she hath great fear of Metacom, who hath 
threatened to descend upon her territory and put 
all to the sword, — or rather, to the tomahawk, 
cutting off the heads of all, if she joineth not 
with him. 

“And sooth, I pity her, being between two 


134 : 


IN KING PHILIP'S WAR 


fires, as it were. For, if she joineth with Met* 
acom, her lands will be ravaged by the whites; 
if she fleeth toward Plymouth, who shall feed 
and succor so large a company, peradventure 
they be well inclined to us?” 

In passing, it may be mentioned that the Cap- 
tain’s fears as to the Squaw-Sachem of Pocas- 
set were soon after realized, for, joining with 
Philip, her territory was the first invaded by the 
white settlers, her people were either killed or 
scattered, and she herself was drowned while 
crossing a river in a canoe. The English soldiers 
in pursuit found only her corpse, but they cut off 
her head and set it up on a pole, as a warning to 
all Indians recreant to their treaty obligations. 

While conversing, the three friends were still 
walking toward the settlement, approaching the 
outskirts of which they deployed their scanty 
forces in wary reconnoissance of the town, with 
its ruins of houses still smoking, where the In- 
dians had applied the torch. 

It was indeed a deserted village, for all the 
sheep and cattle in the fields had been driven off 
by the savages, and the settlers left alive had 
sought shelter in the garrison-house, which was 
the only structure of consequence left standing. 


A GREAT INDIAN FIGHTER APPEARS. 135 

A wide stretch of pasture lay between the trio 
and the garrison, across which ran the road, so, 
for the first time, they were obliged to come out 
into the open. But, as there were no Indians in 
sight, they gathered together again and made a 
dash at double-quick, each one with his musket 
carried ready for use, provided any lurking red- 
skin should be concealed behind the flanking 
walls on either side. 

It was not possible to scan quite all the field, 
with its clumps of trees and dividing walls; but 
there in sight was the great garrison-house, and 
within it, as all knew, was a company of soldiers, 
besides the scores of settlers gathered there for 
shelter. 


CHAPTER X. 

MINISTER MILES* GARRISON HOUSE. 

They had crossed half the distance, when Cap- 
tain Church called a halt. “ Belike the garrison 
is well held/* he said, “ and the troops may still 
be there; but I like not the aspect of things. 
Where are the sentinels? They should be out 
upon the roof, or at least a gun or two should be 
visible, somewhere about the place. But all is 
still as death ! Yet, the fort seemeth intact. I 
understand it not,** 

“ I see something moving, sir, over there by 
that haystack in yon meadow. Yerily, it looketh 
like an Indian’s head!** 

“ And that it is,** exclaimed Captain Church, 
“ or else, what is more probable, the semblance 
of one, made after the manner in which you your- 
self deceived me this very morn. But, whether it 
be or nOj what are we doing here, right out in the 
136 


MINISTER MILES’ GARRISON HOUSE. 137 

open, a fair mark for any enemy to shoot at? 
Here, let us get behind the corner of this wall. 
F faith, we could ask for no better shelter. 

“ Now, are the muskets primed? We are three, 
against how many nobody can tell. But there 
are savages about — that’s certain, and they lie 
between us and the garrison, which is still 
worse.” 

All three were now alert, even the Minister, 
who had “ stopped mooning over his next Sab- 
bath’s sermon,” as the Captain expressed it, and 
was examining the priming of his musket. “ It 
galls me full sore to do so,” he said mournfully, 
“ but if there be fair shot at any prowling savage 
over there, I shall most assuredly take aim and 
pull ye trigger, leaving the result to the Lord.” 

“ That’s the talk, Parson,” said the Captain, 
heartily; “ but if the game appeareth outside yon 
haystack, let me take ye first shot, the lad the 
second, and you what may remain. It ill be- 
comes a man of God to engage in warfare, until 
all other expedients fail. 

“ Ods bodkins, what’s that? ” he exclaimed, as 
Wilfred’s musket rang out with loud report, and 
the smoke from pan and muzzle drifted into his 
very eyes. 


138 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


“ Have a care, lad. Don’t allow your gun to 
explode of itself again. We have no powder to 
waste, my child.” 

“ Perchance you will allow that shot was not 
wasted,” answered Wilfred, withdrawing his 
musket from the loophole in the wall through 
which he had thrust it, and beginning to load 
again in haste. “ Peer beneath the smoke cloud 
and see what you may, by the stack. 

“ P faith, but it is a savage, sure enough, 
stretched prone in death, or else in simulation 
thereof,” exclaimed the Minister. 

“ And so it be, by the long horn spoons ! ” cried 
the Captain. “ Lad, but thou’rt a wonder. My 
heart, but your eyes are sharp, indeed.” Sharp 
they be, and thy trigger-finger quick to respond.” 

“ None too quick,” replied Wilfred, coolly. 
“ Watch the stack closely, sir, for there be others, 
many, if I mistake not, and it would be strange 
if they do not rush forth on a sudden. Should 
they do so, remark that I’m only half loaded, and 
cannot look two ways at once.” 

“ Ods furies ! thou’rt right,” exclaimed the sol- 
dier. “ There they come, full tilt: three, four, 
five — yea, full five of them, charging straight for 
us now. Minister, fire thou at the right-hand one, 


MINISTER MILES’ GARRISON HOUSE. 139 

and I’ll take the next but two. But, perchance 
we kill those two, that will leave yet three to 
combat.” And he groaned; but none the less 
made ready to give the savages a warm recep- 
tion. 

The Minister said nothing, except to assent to 
the proposed arrangement for firing, while Wil- 
fred also kept silence, but gritted his teeth over 
the tedious operation of loading. 

The Indians had not given utterance to a 
sound, probably on account of the contiguity 
of the garrison, wishing to get at their prey with- 
out attracting attention. Half way to the angle 
of the wall, however, they seemed unable to hold 
tongue longer, but let out fiendish yells, loud 
enough and terrible enough to “ wake the 
dead.” 

This had the effect of drawing out the hitherto 
silent inhabitants of the garrison. The great 
door swung open suddenly, and there appeared a 
file of soldiers, headed by an officer waving his 
sword. Seeing them at the same time they were 
perceived by the trio in the angle, the savages 
suddenly veered off towards the woods beyond 
the field, but still yelping defiance and shaking 
their tomahawks, 


140 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


“ They won’t keep that direction long,” said 
the Captain. “ It’s ag’in their rules' to go off and 
leave a dead warrior behind. I’ll just make for 
the stack, and as the savages are running in an 
angle away from it, when they swerve to it ag’in 
I’ll be there to warm ’em up a bit ! ” 

u I’m with you,” cried Wilfred, who by this 
time had finished the painful process of charging 
his piece; and together they leaped over the wall 
and took a bee-line for the hay-stack. 

The soldiers were marching bravely along in 
a straight line, seemingly expecting the Indians 
to come their way, in order to get shot; but the 
latter not being of an accommodating disposition, 
the distance between the bodies of fighters was 
constantly increasing. Still, the soldiers had 
served the purpose of diverting the attention of 
the common enemy, and probably had saved the 
situation, if not the lives of our friends. 

Wilfred and the Captain had almost reached 
the stack when — as the former had divined they 
would do, — the fleeing savages suddenly curved 
around to the left, with the intention of making 
a dash for the dead warrior they had left behind. 
They had not gone far on this course before they 
saw that to continue thereon would mean certain 


MINISTER MILES' GARRISON HOUSE. 141 

death to some of them, probably, and they were 
thrown into confusion. They halted quickly, 
huddling together as if in confab, making an ex- 
cellent mark to fire at; but being at least two 
hundred yards away, apparently felt themselves 
secure. 

“ They want to get that dead Injun mighty 
bad,” said Captain Church. “ If we could only 
have reached the stack before they turned and 
saw us, they wouldn’t have hesitated a second, 
and we might get a shot. 

“ Tell you what, lad, I’ll chance a shot as ’tis, 
if you’ll let me rest my musket on your shoulder. 
What say? The powder may scorch ye, as 1 she 
flashes in ye pan; but ’twon’t be much.” 

“ Fire away,” said Wilfred. “ Don’t mind me 
at all. But quickly.” 

Taking careful aim, with Wilfred’s shoulder as 
a rest, the Captain “ let drive,” and, astonishing 
to relate, took one of the Indians in the head. 
Leaping straight into the air, as if propelled by 
a bomb that had been sprung beneath him, the 
savage fell to the ground, dead, amid his 
astounded comrades. 

“ That confab’s ended,” exclaimed Captain 
Church, quietly lowering his musket. “ Did she 


142 IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 

scorch ye much, my lad? You didn’t move a 
hair.” 

“ Not much,” replied Wilfred, putting his hand 
to his right ear, which was black and bleeding. 
“ But, should we not charge them, now, while 
they are hampered with the burden of the dead 
man? See, they are gathering him up to bear 
away. Soon they will be out of sight in the 
wood.” 

“ Well, let ’em go. The poor cusses are en- 
titled to one of the two. They might drop him 
if we pressed ’em close; but we would be getting 
only another scalp, wuth a shilling, that’s all. 

“ By the way, you’d better save the scalp of 
that one you shot, my lad, before the sojers get 
it. You might ’s well have the shilling, when it’s 
yours.” 

Wilfred drew back as if stung by a snake. 
“ No, no,” he exclaimed. “ I shot the poor crit- 
ter, because he was our enemy and might have 
done us hurt. But now he is dead, I will noth- 
ing further with him; far be it from me to muti- 
late the dead.” 

“ Well, lad, you won’t be so squeamish after a 
while, p’raps. Anyhow, I’m going to save that 
scalp, for it’s wuth a shilling, as I said.” At 


MINISTER MILES’ GARRISON HOUSE. 143 

this Captain Church whipped out a keen, long- 
bladed hunting-knife, and gathering up the In- 
dian’s coarse black hair in his left hand, with 
his right dexterously incised a circle in the 
scalp, and then with a sudden wrench, removed 
the gory trophy. 

Wilfred turned shudderingly away, and at that 
moment the soldiers coming up, bringing with 
them the Minister, he mingled with the throng. 
Many were the compliments he received for his 
accuracy of aim, and for so completely frustrat- 
ing the intent of the savages; but he turned 
them off by pointing out how superior was the 
marksmanship of his comrade, who had killed 
his man at twice the distance. The Minister pro- 
posed burying the dead Indian, buit Captain 
Church interposed an objection. “ No, let him 
lay there,” he said. “ He won’t be there over- 
night, either. Yes, you may watch that carcase 
as you like, but the sneaking varmints' will get 
him away in spite of ye.” 

“ But in that case,” rejoined the Minister, 
“ this dead body will serve as a bait to draw them 
hither, perchance, and had better be buried, lest 
it work to our further discomfiture.” 

“ Nay, Parson, let it remain above ground, 


144 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


and save our strength for greater purposes. If 
the savages wish to be their own sextons and 
carrion crows, why let ’em. As to their prowl- 
ing around — at night — they’ll do that anyway, 
dead man or no dead man. And when they see 
that he’s been sculped, they’ll know there’s 
somebody here und’ stands their*own tactics, and 
will have more respect for us.” 

“ Mayhap,” assented the Parson. “ Then, 
peradventure there be nothing further outside to 
claim our attention, let us go into the garrison, 
where I would fain act as host, and invite ye to 
partake of my hospitality, scant and unworthy 
though it be.” 

Inside the great garrison-house, Wilfred found 
confusion reigning, what with the many settlers 
gathered there, in addition to the company of 
Plymouth soldiers. There were but twenty of 
the latter; but, as Captain Church remarked, 
they made “ noise enow and boasting ” for full 
five score. Immediately he had the ear of their 
commander, he taxed him with being so delin- 
quent in the matter of guarding the outer walls of 
the garrison-house. 

“ Wherefore were ye so tardy in appearing, 
and why that silence around the house as of the 


MINISTER MILES’ GARRISON HOUSE. 445 

very grave? We thought, in sooth, that all with- 
in were killed.” 

“We were disputing,” said the young com- 
mander shamefacedly, “ as to the signs and por- 
tents pertaining to that great eclipse of ye moon, 
which was witnessed by ye Massachusetts troops 
when on their way hither. They encamped 
around the garrison last night, as you know, and 
you may have heard that at the time they were 
on the point of crossing Neponset river, this 
side Boston, they were of a sudden enveloped in 
darkness. Affrighted were they, and full sore 
confused, and especially were they cast down by 
perceiving in ye very center of ye moon the figure 
of a savage’s scalp. Some saw ye scalp, yet 
others affirmed that dark spot in ye moon’s cen- 
ter to be a sagamore armed with bows and ar- 
rows.” 

“ Sagamore, forsooth, ye caitiff ! And if so, 
what of it? ” 

“ Why, if so, some held it to be a bad omen, and 
presaging disaster to our arms; but if not, they 
were not so cast down.” 

“And that ye were so intent upon wrangling 
about that ye could not give heed to the proper 
sentineling of the place? Out upon ye! Me- 
10 


146 


IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 


thinks ye war will never come to a close if we de- 
pend on such as ye. What think, Parson, of 
these signs and portents? ” 

Minister Miles, who happened at that moment 
to pass by, halted at this and replied, thought- 
fully, “ It remindeth me of the answer made by 
the Roman general, Marcus Cyassus, to one of his 
soldiers, in a similar event. The soldier ex- 
pressed fear because of the eclipse occurring in 
ye sign of Capricornus, but his commander said 
he cared not for that, so much as if it had oc- 
curred in Sagittarius — or the Arrow, — fearing 
ye arrows of the Parthians, who were his ene- 
mies, and very expert archers, withal.” 

Wilfred found within the garrison many of 
his friends and former neighbors, most of whom 
had lost their dwellings, farming-stock and tools, 
— all they had in the world, in truth. Right in 
sight from the upper windows of the garrison- 
house were the ruins of the Wilkins’ dwelling, 
which had been one of the first ones burnt by the 
Indians. Sadly, and with tears, the boy looked 
upon the blackened rafters, fallen within the 
cellar, and thought of the happy days and nights’ 
passed in that home, now but a memory. 

His heart swelled with resentment against the 


MINISTER MILES’ GARRISON HOUSE. 147 

author of this outrage; that Indian to whom he 
had purposed setting out on a mission of peace 
and good-will. Almost, then, he was willing to 
forego it and devote himself, heart and soul, to 
the cause of the colonists. Philip himself was not 
personally concerned in the burning of the set- 
tlement; but it was his hand that lighted the 
spark from which the conflagration was kindled, 
which now promised to spread throughout New 
England and involve thousands in a common 
ruin. 

But, as he reflected on the matter, his better 
feelings prevailed, and he resolved to pursue his 
original purpose, which was indeed in the cause 
of the colonists in a higher, better sense than 
mere killing and massacre. If, perchance, he 
could win Philip back to peace, and induce him to 
declare the war should go no further, he would 
be gaining a great victory. 

But, was it not already beyond his control, 
even were he disposed to peace? That was some- 
thing Wilfred could not answer, neither could 
Captain Church nor the Minister; though the 
former affirmed with vehemence that nothing 
short of the death of King Philip would bring the 
war to a close. 


148 


IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 


The night was passed in the crowded garrison- 
house, which was not any too comfortable, de- 
spite the endeavors of Minister Miles to make 
his guests “at home ” and forget their terrible 
losses, or at least lose recollection of them for 
the time being. In the morning, after a fervent 
prayer before meat, at the common table, some of 
the settlers and all the soldiers set out for the 
“ neck ” of land leading to the dominions of 
Philip, across which a stout fence had long since 
been erected. It was their intention to take down 
from the poles by the roadside, the heads of sev- 
eral citizens, which had been cut off and placed 
there by the Indians, nearly a week before This 
sad office they performed almost in silence, and 
it was with spirits greatly depressed that the 
company turned back from the bridge at the nar- 
rowest part of the neck and took up the march 
homeward. 

Just as they turned about, they were fired upon 
by a company of Indians in ambush, but so far 
away that only the guide, one William Ham- 
mond, was struck by a bullet, which, however, in- 
flicted a mortal wound. Seeing this, most of 
the troopers — for the company was mounted — 
scampered off in a hurry; and but for Captain 


MINISTER MILES’ GARRISON HOUSE. 149 

Church would have left the poor guide to be 
scalped. Church shook his sword in their faces, 
backing his horse in front of them, and finally 
persuaded them to halt. He no longer had a mus- 
ket, having exchanged it for the sword, in token 
of his authority to command, but that he greatly 
preferred the former he himself declared, in his 
fury calling for some one of the troopers to lend 
him a carbine, or short musket, telling them he 
would then show them “ what’s what, and who’s 
who.” 

Finally, being unable to make the soldiers do 
more than stand in their tracks, while he ad- 
vanced against the concealed enemy, Captain 
Church called for volunteers to go with him and 
rescue their sorely-wounded comrade, who was 
then in such a dazed condition that he was unable 
to more than keep his seat. At this, he was joined 
by several of his own yeomen, among them being 
a Mr. Belcher, and a Mr. Gill, as well as Wilfred 
Wilkins, who — the Captain had by now dis- 
covered — was e\er foremost on the fighting-line. 
The boy was afoot, while most of the others were 
mounted ; but that mattered little to one so swift 
on his feet as he, as, the ground being rough, he 
was enabled to keep pace with the best of them. 


150 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


This little company about-faced and charged 
across the bridge, at which another volley was 
fired by the Indians, two shots taking effect, both 
Gill and Belcher being struck. The latter re- 
ceived a shot in his knee and his horse was shot 
from under him; but the former, having on what 
was known as a “ buff coat,” beneath which was 
a cuirass or breastplate of steel, escaped real in- 
jury, the ball that struck him hardly breaking the 
skin. 

Nothing daunted by their rude reception, 
Church and his few retainers darted forward and 
reached the poor guide just as he fainted from 
loss of blood and fell from his horse. Wilfred 
caught him in his arms, and after the Captain 
had dismounted, helped the latter place the 
dying man in the saddle. Then, with a comrade 
on each side, to support him there, the man was 
taken back to the bridge ; where he expired, while 
yet seated in the saddle, and in sight of all. 


CHAPTER XI. 


SEARCHING THE SWAMP FOR SAVAGES. 

While the guide lay dead upon the ground, 
and the soldiers were making a litter in which to 
take him back to the garrison-house, “ ye skulking 
enemy returned ” (in the language of the old 
chronicle of this sad event) “ and discharged all 
their guns at Captain Church, at one clap; and, 
though every shot miss’d him, yet one of ye army 
on ye other side ye river, was wounded in ye 
foot.” 

By this, it seems, Captain Church was the 
last to retreat across the bridge, at the hither end 
of which he “ heroically made his stand,” and 
vowed he would not retreat another rod. 

“ Lord help us,” he exclaimed, shaking his fist 
at the “ army,” and his sword at the enemy, “ if 
such a beggarly handful of savages shall thus 
151 


152 


IN KING PHILIPS WAR. 


dare such an army of white men ! Here we stand, 
come death or come glory, and I call for volun- 
teers to help me hold the bridge.” 

“ I needn’t have asked thee, my lad,” the old 
soldier said grimly, “ for I knew thou woullst 
be the first to respond,” addressing Wilfred, who 
immediately came to his side. 

“ I would all were like this slip of a man-child . 
by my side, who hath the heart for any daring. 
Come, will ye let a youth yet in his teens shame 
ye? Methinks none of ye have shame within 
your breasts, forsooth. Oh, for some of my brave 
yeomen. Ha, what was that? ” 

He was answered by a shout from some dis- 
tance down the road, and in a cloud of dust there 
came marching along at the double-quick, sixty 
or seventy soldiers, their captain, mounted on a 
big gray horse, well forward in the van. 

“ Heaven ’s heard us ! ” shouted Captain 
Church. “ It’s my old comrade, Fuller, veteran 
of the Pequod War. Now we shall make the 
enemy account for himself, my boys, for there 
with him be my owm men, too, may God be 
praised ! ” 

Seeing the approach of reinforcements, the 
Indians in the bush slackened their fire and evi- 


SEARCHING THE SWAMP FOR SAVAGES. 153 

dently fled deeper into the forest, for soon there 
was no more heard from them. But Captain 
Church was disappointed, in the main, when in- 
formed by his old friend, Captain Fuller, that he 
had orders not to pursue the foe and endanger 
the lives of his soldiers, but to erect a fort at 
the Swansea end of the bridge and there remain 
till further notice. 

“ Hear that, ye listening gods ! ” shouted 
Church, in a fine frenzy at having his ambitions 
balked by the cowardly precautions taken at 
headquarters. “ What, forsooth, be the lives of 
soldiers for, if not to be endangered? Let them 
go home, then, and hide beneath their beds, for 
with the women and children of this colony can 
I make a better fight than with them! Still, I 
have my gallant yeomen, and this lad here, who 
hath never left my side, albeit hard pressed by the 
enemy. What say, men, shall it be to sit su- 
pinely here, or search yon wood for the savages? 
Of a truth, they will ne’er search for us, save by 
night, and at times when least expected ! ” 

“ To the woods ! to the woods ! ” shouted his 
men, stepping forth from the ranks and gather- 
ing about him, “ lead us on and we will follow 
after!” 


154 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


“ Hear ye that, poltroons from Plymouth, all, 
and eke from Massachusetts? I care not if ye 
be ‘ instructed ’ by those stay-at-homes who have 
purchased exemption from service by becoming 
members of the church. It may seem full im- 
pious in me to question the doings of ye general 
court; but I am the Church militant — the fight- 
ing Church ! — Eh boys', what think ye all?” 

“ Yea, verily,” they shouted, amid laughter at 
their Captain’s play on words; “ Yea, that’s the 
talk ; the fighting Church for us ! ” 

“ Hear that, lad? ” exclaimed the mollified 
Captain, turning to Wilfred, still at his side. 
“ Hear what my own men say? Wilt thou, too, 
go with us in the seeking for that heathen, Meta- 
comet? ” 

u That I came for,” answered Wilfred calmly ; 
“ but, as you know, it was to save, and not to 
murther Philip, Captain Church ! ” 

“ Yea, I know. But, so thou goest as thou hast 
begun, I’ve no fear but we shall get his scalp, in 
th’ end, for thou’rt a fighter born, my lad ! ” 

So it was settled off-hand by Captain Church, 
no protest being offered, that he and his yeomen 
should go and seek for Philip at and near Poka- 
noket, whither, it was believed, he still lay con- 


SEARCHING THE SWAMP FOR SAVAGES. 155 

cealed, while the bulk of the army lay intrenched 
in the fort they would erect at the Neck. 

“ But, ye are fools, every one, to squat down 
here, on your hams, making pretence of building 
a fort, while that pagan, Metacomet, hath good 
knowledge of your whereabouts and can alway 
find ye out! What, think ye, he will be doing 
while ye wait him here? Not sitting in his seat 
at Pokanoket, methinks, nor idly waiting any- 
where, in sooth. Nay, he will be rampaging up 
and down ye country, murthering and destroy- 
ing, shedding the blood of your mothers, wives 
and children,— say I ! ” 

And it was even so, for the brave Captain knew 
his quarry well, having had experience in hunt- 
ing the same kind of game. The dilatory tactics 
pursued by the soldiers came near to being the 
undoing of the colony, for, as one of the saga- 
mores said long after, when captured and inter- 
rogated as to the cause of the war being so pro- 
longed, the white men always marched in a body, 
and slowly, resting often and at well-known 
places; while the Indians scattered about, each 
man fighting “ on his own hook,” and taking no 
rest until the object sought had been accom- 
plished. 


156 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


Now, it was estimated that King Philip had at 
his command more than 6,000 warriors, and in- 
cluding the Narragansets, who were about to 
join him, he could put at least 10,000 warriors 
in the field. New England, at this time, con- 
tained a population of about 100,000 white 
people, of whom, it is said, not more than 16,000 
were capable of bearing arms. Scattered as they 
were, along a great extent of sea-coast, and in- 
land on the borders of all the principal rivers, 
they did not all assemble to combat the common 
enemy; but first and last, nearly every commun- 
ity felt the weight of the war. 

Against Philip’s ten thousand warriors 
(though he never had one half that number as- 
sembled at any one time) how many soldiers, do 
you suppose, reader, Captain Church drafted to 
accompany him in his search for the enemy. 

Some say thirty, some twenty; but the truth is, 
he had not more than two dozen, all told! But 
every man, including himself, was a seasoned 
Veteran — every man, that is, except our young 
friend, Wilfred Wilkins; but, as we have already 
noted, if the doughty Captain had all as good as 
he, then he could desire none better. 

The woods across the river were, doubtless, 


SEARCHING THE SWAMP FOR SAVAGES. 157 

alive with savages, even though they no longer 
showed themselves; but Captain Church was com- 
pelled to wait till next morning before commen- 
cing his march, on account of the necessity of 
provisioning his little troop. Over at Rehoboth 
was Mr. Treasurer Southworth, with ample 
stores, and from these the Captain was allowed 
to draw all he needed of provisions and ammu- 
nition. This done, early on the morning of a 
bright day in July, 1675, the devoted band set 
forth. 

The previous night, the veteran had tried to 
draw the Indians into an ambush, and would 
have succeeded in the game at which his oppo- 
nents were so expert, had it not been for the 
carelessness of his friends, the soldiers of Cap- 
tain Fuller’s command. For, some of them, 
while in ambush, concealed in bushes by the 
river side, “ being troubled with the epidemical 
plague of lust after tobacco, must needs strike 
fire to smoke it. And thereby they discovered 
themselves to a party of the enemy coming up 
to them, who immediately fled with great pre- 
cipitation.” 

“ Ods codfish ! ” exclaimed the Captain in 
vexation (when he became aware of the trivial 


158 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


circumstance that had spoiled his plan) “but 
we can never accomplish anything in company 
with such inconsiderate villains. Come away, 
my merry men, and we alone will seek the 
enemy.” 

Provisioned as they were for several days, the 
little company of rangers bade adieu to Captain 
Fuller and his regiment of “ city soldiers ” and 
plunged into the swamp. 

This great swamp of Pocasset was not far dis- 
tant from that bordering on Pokanoket, and the 
Captain held great hopes of at least stirring up 
the hornets’ nest, as he called it, even if he 
could not destroy its inhabitants. 

It w r as at Quaucut brook that they discovered 
fresh signs of the Indians, and following the trail 
soon revealed a broad and beaten track which 
led into a great pine swamp, not far distant from 
the main road to Sogkonate. 

“ Ah, ha ! ” exclaimed the Captain, “ now I 
know where the pagans are assembled ! There is 
an island in this swamp which for long time has 
been a favorite rendezvous of the red-skins. I 
have been there myself, and if we follow this trail 
we shall soon see Indians enough, I warrant you ! 
Now, my men, this is the last chance for any of 


SEARCHING THE SWAMP FOR SAVAGES. 159 

you that are afraid, to turn back and divest the 
company of a coward’s cumbrance; for once 
within the wilds, there will be no turning back. 
So, get out, and at once, faint hearts ! We want 
none but the stoutest hearts that beat ! ” 

Not a single man stirred, except to tighten 
afresh his belt, to loosen the stopple of his pow- 
der-horn, or examine the priming in his rifle-pan. 
So the Captain was satisfied, and said, with a 
grunt of approval,” Deploy into three companies, 
and march in single file, each company parallel 
with the other. By so doing we shall doubtless 
stir up something ere the sun has reached me- 
ridian.” 

They had not proceeded more than a mile in 
this manner, before the central file discovered a 
bunch of Indian wigwams, and some of the 
younger members made as if to plunder it of its 
contents. It happened that Wilfred was with 
this file; but though he was the youngest there, 
he held aloof from the plundering and kept watch 
without, while his comrades entered within, after 
parleying with him as to the wisdom of such a 
procedure. He opposed it, of course, arguing 
that not only would the plunder load them down 
and weary them, but they would lose time by 


160 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


waiting and be unable to rejoin their friends at 
the rendezvous agreed upon, and thus risk being 
cut off, and perhaps frustrate the Captain’s 
scheme of rushing the camp, if it were found 
occupied by the savages. 

The yeomen were obdurate, however, and Wil- 
fred could not prevent the raid upon the huts. 
As he stood without, he heard the sound of some- 
one approaching, and, with musket ready, peered 
into the undergrowth. To his great joy, the new- 
comer proved to be no other than his Captain, 
who, as soon as he saw the position of things, and 
heard Wilfred’s account of what was going on, 
entered in haste one of the wigwams, and taking 
the first pair of raiders by the scruff of their 
necks, kicked them out most unceremoniously. 
He repeated the process with all the others he 
could lay hands on, and by the time he was 
through with them, they, as may be imagined, 
were very wroth indeed. 

“ Ye caitiffs, miserable spawn of Satan, know 
ye not that ye are doing that which will draw 
down upon us most swiftly the vengeance of 
the pagans? Ods codfish, men, what are ye think- 
ing of? This lad I verily believe, is the only 
scout amongst ye worthy the name! Get hence, 


SEARCHING THE SWAMP FOR SAVAGES. 161 

now, and, since your leader hath proven himself 
unworthy, for the day I appoint the boy to lead 
the van.” 

This he said in a hoarse whisper, fearing that 
any noise, however slight, might alarm the enemy 
and put his band in jeopardy. Indeed, no word 
had been said aloud, and it was a queer spectacle 
this little group presented, of the doughty Cap- 
tain booting first one and then another, and the 
injured party daring hardly to resent it, but mak- 
ing mouths awry and rubbing the parts that had 
been attacked most sorely. 

“ Pick up your muskets, now, and follow after 
this lad, who will proceed as before, straight 
ahead until the island in the swamp is reached. 
The other two-eights of us (there being twenty- 
four in all) will come the flank movement, and 
so we may surround the pagans, before they have 
a chance to flee.” 

The Captain darted off to rejoin his own com- 
mand, on the right, but hardly had he disap- 
peared than he returned again, saying that he 
had discovered several Indian dogs loose in the 
swamp, wandering about as if lost, and this, 
taken in conjunction with the fresh signs all 
about, in his opinion meant that the savages had 
11 


162 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAP. 


abandoned their camp and were preparing an 
ambush for their reception. 

Having warned them to advance very slowly 
and with the greatest caution, he again departed, 
to give these new instructions to the other 
groups ahead. He no longer expected to sur- 
prise the camp in the swamp, but desired his men 
to converge on a given point ahead, if possible 
before the place of probable ambush was reached, 
and thus be able to present a compact front to 
the enemy. If he were mistaken, he had ex- 
plained, they could again scatter as before and 
march in open files. 

That he was right in his surmise was soon 
proved, by the next discovery, which was that of 
a second group of wigwams, in the midst of a 
“ stately field of corn,” one of which contained a 
young squaw and an infant hardly more than a 
month old. The squaw was sullen and would 
not speak, while of course the infant could give 
no information, so the prize promised little to 
enlighten the captors, save by inference. This 
inference was that there were Indians “ close 
aboard,” as in fact was soon verified, for, stand- 
ing as usual, without the wigwam, while his com- 
panions peered within and took account of the 


SEARCHING THE SWAMP FOR SAVAGES. 163 

plunder it contained, Wilfred saw the glint of a 
gun-barrel, on the slope of a hill net far away. 

It could hardly be a gun belonging to any of 
his comrades, for they had not advanced that far, 
he reasoned; but in order to be sure he called 
one of the men to his side. Pointing it out to 
him, the man, either being very far-sighted, or 
placed more advantageously than Wilfred, dis- 
covered not only a single Indian, but several 
others, all with guns in their hands. They had 
evidently not yet seen their enemies, but were on 
the watch, with their attention apparently di- 
verted by one or both of the other bands of whites 
approaching, somewhat in advance. 

As the Indians were more than a gunshot 
away, it would be futile (all agreed) to fire at 
them ; but something must be done to warn Cap- 
tain Church and the others of their vicinage. 
There was an evident purpose in the Indians ap- 
pearing out in sight so boldly, and at first the 
watchers were puzzled. 

At last Wilfred said: “ My friends, it seems 
to me plain enough. They are there to lure us 
and our comrades into an ambuscade, upon 
which, if I mistake not, we are now, all three 
bands converging ! They would have us all make 


164 : 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


a dash toward them ; — but before we reached yon 
hill, I’m sure, we should run up against some 
Indian muskets! What think you?” 

“ I think ’bout the same’s you do,” replied the 
former leader, who, though he had been tempo- 
rarily displaced by Wilfred, held no malice; 
“ and if I was the head of this division, I should 
send a man out either way to warn the Capt’n 
and the others. P’raps they’ve seen ’em, and 
then ag’in, p’raps they hain’t.” 

“ That’s sound advice,” agreed the youth ; “ but 
to do so involves great risk to those who go out. 
I don’t like to order, nor even ask anyone to do 
what I won’t do myself, so I say this : I’ll be one 
to go, if another will take the opposite direction, 
while the rest remain right here till we return, 
— or, till something happens.” 

“ And I’ll be the other,” spoke up the former 
leader. “ Stay right here, boys, and keep your 
eyes peeled. If you hear firing ahead, or on the 
flank, make for the spot where it’s heaviest. 
If there ain’t any firing, why, we’ll all be back 
inside a jiffy. Ain’t that about it?” he said, 
addressing Wilfred. 

“ I don’t know any other way out of it,” an- 
swered the youth. “ Unless,” he added, “ we beat 


SEARCHING THE SWAMP FOR SAVAGES. 165 

a retreat at once ; and that, of course, under these 
circumstances, is not to be thought of.” 

“ Not for a minnit,” promptly replied the gal- 
lant young man, and he was seconded in this 
opinion by the other six. There was, in truth, 
quite a rivalry between them as to which ones 
should go on this perilous mission; but it was 
quickly settled, and Wilfred started in one direc- 
tion, while his comrade went off in the other. 

They could not have far to go, for the bands 
were not far apart; but the swamp was dark, 
and dense with matted vegetation, outside the 
verge of the “ island,” or small spot of dry land 
where the wigwams were, and the pools of stag- 
nant water were frequent. 

Very soon after leaving his comrades, Wil- 
fred was plunged into a thicket of tangled briars, 
the barbed hooks of which were so closely inter- 
locked that he had to draw his knife to cut a 
passage through them. This done, he emerged, 
panting and almost exhausted, upon a knoll 
covered with scrub oaks, where he had an en- 
counter, which ended his endeavors in behalf of 
his comrades for that day, and a long time after. 


CHAPTER XII. 


MADE CAPTIVE BY METACOMET. 

On the highest part of the knoll stood a big and 
branching oak-tree, beneath which was a wigwam 
newly made of green bark, covered so with 
branches and trailing mosses that it could 
scarcely be distinguished from the surrounding 
shrubs. At first, indeed, entangled as he was in 
the “ catch-me-quick ” briars, Wilfred did not no- 
tice the hut, and in his haste walked right upon 
it, only halting when he found his way ob- 
structed by what appeared to be a wattled wall 
of bushes. 

He was about to break his w T ay through this 
wall, (supposing it to be an Indian fence, made 
for the purpose of keeping deer or other animals 
out of a field, or pertaining to some sort of 
trap or snare for catching partridges or rabbits) 
166 



The savage held an enormous horse-pistol, which he pointed 
directly at Wilfred’s head. Page 167 

—In King Philip's War . 













































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MADE CAPTIVE BY METACOMET. 16 ? 

when he was arrested in the very act by a hideous 
apparition. It was no less, in fact, than the head 
of an Indian warrior, perched upon a pair of 
broad shoulders, (naked, of course), and pro- 
truding through a hole in the wall, which proved 
to be the doorway of the wigwam. This aper- 
ture was at some height above the ground, for the 
further concealment of the hut’s true character, 
and, doubtless, if the boy had not made a break 
directly for the frail structure, its inmate would 
not have showed himself. 

As it w T as, the savage not only made his pres- 
ence known, but on the instamt of his exit jerked 
out his right arm and hand, in the latter hold- 
ing an enormous horse-pistol, which he pointed 
directly at Wilfred’s head. So close was he, in 
truth, that the muzzle of the pistol almost took 
him in the mouth, grimly grinning at him, as if 
to say: “Now we’ve got you, my fine fellow! 
Another move, and you’re a dead one ! ” 

The pistol might have been empty, to be sure; 
but no one in his senses would take the chances 
of its being so, under the circumstances in which 
it was presented, so Wilfred fell back a pace or 
two and threw up his hands, in token of sur- 
render. 


168 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


“ Umph ! ” grunted the savage, as if very well 
satisfied with himself; but at the same time hold- 
ing the pistol on a line with the boy’s head, aimed 
at his eyes. 

“ Drop that musket,” he seemed to say next, 
though by an expressive nod of his head, seem- 
ingly unable to speak in English. Wilfred took 
it to mean that, anyway, and leaned the gun 
against a tree, after which, folding his arms, he 
awaited further developments. 

“ Go farther away from the gun,” the savage 
signaled, and Wilfred moved three paces to the 
right. 

“ Now stay there,” was the next sign, which 
also was promptly obeyed. Then the wary savage 
slowly crawled through the rude doorway, ever 
keeping that formidable weapon directed toward 
his prisoner, and when he had extricated himself 
from the wigwam he darted stealthily to the tree 
and seized the gun. With the flintlock in his 
possession, he pitched the pistol into the wigwam, 
and signed Wilfred to go in after it. At once, 
the lad saw that he had been artfully entrapped 
into giving up his gun on false pretences — for 
it was an empty pistol that the Indian had 
pointed at him; — which fact he might have de- 


MADE CAPTIVE BY METACOMET. iflp 

tected had he but had the wit to examine the 
powder-pan beneath the flint. 

This, all too late, he realized, and gritted his 
teeth with rage. No one could blame him much 
for not examining that weapon while it was 
under his nose, in sooth; but he blamed him- 
self. 

“ To think,” he muttered, “ that I should be 
taken in by such a paltry trick as that! Ugh! 
The rascal has my musket, too — that’s the worst 
of it. I wonder,” he soliloquized to himself, “ if 
I couldn’t, somehow, get the better of him?” 

He glanced over his shoulder, as he slowly 
wormed his way into the hut, to see if, perchance, 
the savage might be oft his guard; but was 
greatly incensed to observe that, instead of cover- 
ing him with the musket, he w r as holding it care- 
lessly in the hollow of his arm and laughing im- 
moderately. 

This made the lad draw back again, for, not 
only was the Indian’s action rather unusual in a 
savage, but there was something about him that 
seemed familiar. 

“ He doesn’t appear to regard me as a deadly 
enemy, anyhow,” mused Wilfred. “ Seems to 
have seen me before. I wonder if he could have 


170 IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 

met me anywhere? It won’t do any harm to 
make believe so, anyway. 

“ Look here,” he said aloud, u Haven’t you ever 
been in Swansea? Don’t you know the Wilkins’ 
farm over there? ” 

The Indian answered not a word, but only 
grinned the more — if that were possible, showing 
his “ ivories ” in a manner that betokened great 
amusement. 

“ You old heathen, you ! So, you don’t under- 
stand what I say? I’d like to choke the life out 
of your big carcase — that I would.” 

The Indian slapped his naked thigh a resound- 
ing whack, and, to Wilfred’s great surprise, 
made reply : “ You no can do it.” 

“ What? So you can speak my language? 
Not many Wampanoags can do that, so perhaps 
I can guess who you are. Why,” (as a turn of 
the Indian’s head revealed in a different, and, 
somehow, a familiar attitude) — “ Look here, can 
you be — are you — Metacomet? ” 

“ P’raps so ; p’raps he’s spirit. Some call me 
Metacom ; some call King Philip. One time you 
call me friend! How now?” 

“A friend once should be always a friend,” 
said Wilfred falteringly, somewhat overcome by 


MADE CAPTIVE BY METACOMET. Ifl 

the situation. Yet he was alive to the fact that 
here was the dearest desire of his heart — or next 
to the dearest desire — the meeting with Philip — 
accomplished without great delay. The dearest 
desire, of course, was to get his promise to end 
the war; but that in due time. 

Rallying his scattered wits, Wilfred then 
added : “ I wanted to see you, Philip; I came here 
to see you, but ” 

“ Me know that, so me come to meet you. 
Know all ’bout it, — all. My scouts tell me you 
come, not ’fraid Metcom; trust him, so must be 
friend.” Saying this, the Indian advanced with 
hand extended — as one time he had done before, 
and Wilfred accepted the proffered renewal of 
friendship without hesitation. 

“ Come into wigwam,” said Metacomet, after 
they had grasped each other’s hands and looked 
into each other’s faces, finding there an assur- 
ance of mutual trust and confidence. Little 
wonder, was it, that Wilfred knew not his friend, 
for Philip’s face was painted black, his hair 
raised on the crown of his head to a kind of 
cock’s-comb, like a zebra’s bristly mane — all this 
in token of war. 

“Not know me, eh?” asked Metacom, “Me 


172 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


know you. More — me know you come, come 
straight here to wigwam, for Hobbomocko tell 
me so ! Want see you very bad, too. My heart 
want see you. My face black, but heart all white, 
before little Sagamore. That me call you now, 
i Little Sagamore/ ’cause you be small chief 
under Metacom, eh?” 

“ I don’t know about that,” answered Wil- 
fred, “ I wouldn’t like to be a Sagamore and 
fight my friends, the white folks, you know.” 

“ That so, s’pose not. But wait, we see. Ha ! 
Hear that? Gun go off.” 

They were then inside the wigwam, which ap- 
parently held nobody beside themselves, having 
probably been constructed especially for this 
meeting, Wilfred concluded; though, as later 
events proved, erroneously. 

The walls of the wigwam, frail as they were, 
seemed to press upon the youth and suffocate 
him, when, the reports of the guns without com- 
ing to his ears, he was thereby reminded of his 
friends, perhaps in danger through his own 
remissness. He looked at Philip almost fiercely, 
as he said : “ I cannot stay here, while your men 
are killing my friends ! It was to save them that 


MADE CAPTIVE BY METACOMET. 173 

I was hurrying on, when you stopped me. Let 

me go ! let me go ! and I will return after ” 

“ After your friend murder my men? That 
what you would say? What difference? If you 
friend no kill my men, my men kill your friend. 
That war, that chance soldier take; so stay still. ” 

“ No, I cannot. If you kill me, then, of course, 
I am released from my obligation; but so long 
as I am alive I must be doing my duty ! ” 

“ Well, p’raps it too late, now ! Me make good 
ambush for Church and he think he make for me 
— that all. First one to fail get kill! You no 
blame Metacom, eh?” 

“ No, no; but it was to warn Captain Church 
and his men of that very ambuscade that I was 
going, when you halted me. Let me go to them — 
if not too late — and I will come back.” 

“ No need. You stay here. Listen ! You 
trust Metacom? You no b’lieve he tell lie? ” 

“ I — I don’t know. Yes, I believe he will tell 
the truth to me. But don’t delay me now. Tell 

me later. Give me my musket and ” 

“ No, Little Sagamore, no need. Hear me, 
now. Me say, expect you to come, eh? Well, me 
no want kill you, my friend, so me make what 
may be call false ambush. If want to, can kill 


174 : 


IN KING PHILIPS WAR. 


all men Church have with him, and heself, too; 
but this time no want, ’cause you with him, see? 

“ Now wait, in one, two moment you hear 
much fire of Indian gun. You think all must be 
kill; but not so. That done to make Church men 
’fraid and get out; but not to kill. Mebbe one, 
two, get kill; but not mean to — not this time! 
Next time , yes — kill all ; but not now. You un- 
d’stand? Yes? Then what you think?” 

“ I think you are not only a great strategist, 
Metacom, but you can be a true friend. Still, it 
is hard to stay here doing nothing, while my 
friends out there are engaged with the enemy.” 

“Oh ho, so that it, eh? You want go kill 
Injun, ’cause he your ‘ enemy.’ P’raps you kill 
Injun already, eh? That so? ” 

“ I — I fear I have killed one, Metacom; but it 
was in self-defence.” 

“ Yes, that what English always say : have to 
kill Injun, so he no kill white man; but when 
Injun kill white man, that they call murder!” 

The conversation, getting near the danger- 
line at this moment, was providentially inter- 
rupted by a perfect fusilade of firearms, as if 
two regiments were engaged. 

“ Ha! that my men. You think they kill whole 


MADE CAPTIVE BY METACOMET. 175 

world, eh? But no, they shoot in air, no hurt 
nobody — not to-day; to-morrow, mebbe.” 

“ But the sound is terrifying, Metacom. Some 
must be killed ! ” 

“ No, guess not. If any white man killed, 
me kill Injun that do it — that he know, so he be 
careful. You wait here. After all over, we go 
see.” 

Now, strange as it may appear, although Cap- 
tain Church’s party did fall into an ambuscade, 
that day, and were attacked by “ seven or eight 
score Indians pursuing after them — ” (accord- 
ing to the ancient history of the event, published 
in the year 1716), not one was killed. How they 
came to be thus miraculously preserved, they 
knew not at the time; but the reader of this 
story has already been informed. However, Cap- 
tain Church and his contemporaries looked upon 
their preservation as an interposition of Provi- 
dence, and great was their vain-glory thereat. 
From reading the history of the event, written 
years after by Captain Church himself, one might 
think that a mighty battle had been waged and 
hundreds of Indians overthrown; when the real 
truth was that no single soul, on the settlers’ 
side, received serious harm that day. In order 


176 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


to show that such a happening really did occur, 
the writer of this narrative will quote from the 
pages of a contemporary historian, as well as 
from those of Captain Church’s “ entertaining 
History.” 

Somehow or other, after Wilfred’s departure, 
the three companies came together, and “ Capt. 
Church (for so he may well be styled after this 
time) marched further into the neck. But before 
they saw anybody they were saluted with a 
volley of above fifty or sixty guns. Some bullets 
came surprisingly near to Capt. Church, who, 
starting to look behind him to see what was be- 
come of his men — expecting to have seen half of 
them dead — saw them all upon their legs, and 
briskly firing at the smokes of the enemies’ guns 
(for that was all that was then to be seen). He 
blessed God, and called to his men not to dis- 
charge all their muskets at once, lest the enemy 
should take advantage of such an opportunity 
to run upon them with their hatchets! Casting 
his eyes to the side of the hill above them, the hill 
seemed to move, being covered with Indians, with 
their bright guns glittering in the sun, and run- 
ning in a circumference with a design to sur- 
round them. 


MADE CAPTIVE BY METACOMET. ffi 

“ Now was the time for this young captain and 
his small company to show their valor upon this 
great rout of Indians, just ready to devour them ! 
But victory stands no more in the number of sol- 
diers than in the plurality of voices; and al- 
though some of this small company had courage 
enough for themselves, yet their captain had 
enough for himself, and some to spare for his 
friends, which he there had opportunity of im- 
proving to the full. 

When he saw the hearts of any of his followers 
fail, he would bid them be of good courage and 
fight stoutly, and, (possibly by some divine im- 
pression upon his heart) assured them not a 
bullet of ye enemy should hurt any one of them; 
which one of ye company more dismayed than 
the rest could hardly believe until he saw the 
proof of it in his own person, for the captain, per- 
ceiving the man was not able to fight, made him 
gather rocks together for a kind of shelter, and 
barricade for the rest, that must of necessity 
either fight or fall by the enemies. 

It chanced as' this faint-hearted soldier had a 
flat rock in his arms, which he was carrying to 
the shelter he was making upon the bank, a bul- 
let of ye enemy was thus warded off from his 
12 


178 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


body, by which else he must have perished, which 
experience put new life into him, so as he fol- 
lowed his business very manfully afterward, in- 
somuch that they defended themselves under a 
small shelter hastily made up, all that afternoon, 
not one being either slain or wounded! Yea, 
such was the bold and undaunted courage of this 
champion, Capt. Church, not being willing to 
leave any token behind of their flying for want 
of courage, that he went back in the face of his 
enemies to fetch his hat, which he had left at a 
spring, whither the extreme heat of ye weather 
and his labor in fighting had caused him to re- 
pair for the quenching of his thirst, an hour or 
two before 

This assault rather heightened and increased, 
than daunted the courage of Capt Church; for 
not making a cowardly flight, but a fair retreat, 
which Providence offered him by a sloop coming 
to his rescue on the river, after his ammunition 
was spent. 

Then, borrowing three files of men from the 
Massachusetts forces, Capt. Church returned to 
Pocasset, where they had another skirmish with 
ye enemy, wherein some few of them were slain, 
— which struck such a terror into Philip that he 


MADE CAPTIVE BY METACOMET. 179 

betook himself to the swamps about Pocasset, 
where he lay hid till the return of the rest of the 
forces from the Narragansets, like a wild boar 
kept at bay, by this small party, till more hands’ 
came up. On Monday, July 18, they marched 
18 miles before they could reach the swamp 
where ye enemy was lodged. As soon as they 
came to the place, (Plymouth forces now being 
joined with them), our soldiers resolutely en- 
tered in amongst their enemies, who took ad- 
vantage of ye thick underwood to make a shot 
at them that first entered, whereby five were 
killed outright, and seven more wounded, some 
of whose wounds proved mortal. 

After the first shot ye enemy retired deeper 
into ye swamp, deserting their wigwams, (about 
100 in all) newly made of green bark, so they 
would not burn. In one of them they found an 
old man, who confessed that Philip had lately 
been there; but having spent some time in search- 
ing the swamp, and tired themselves to no pur- 
pose, the commander-in-chief (night drawing on 
apace, and thinking it not safe to tarry longer in 
so dangerous a place) ordered a retreat to be 
sounded, that they might have time to dispose of 


180 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


their dead and wounded men, which accordingly 
was done.” 

This is the story of the first real search for 
King Philip, as told by a reliable historian, who 
died just two hundred years ago. As already re- 
marked, he was a contemporary of the actors in 
this long and bloody war, and he gathered his 
facts from those who were engaged in the various 
fights and skirmishes, so they must be authentic. 
The real motive for Captain Church’s return so 
quickly to the swamp, from which he and his 
men had been driven in the bloodless battle of a 
few days before, may be found in his desire to 
recover his young friend, Wilfred Wilkins, who 
had so mysteriously disappeared when seeking 
to warn his comrades of the ambuscade. 

In his anxiety to find him, he swallowed his 
vexation at the regular soldiers, for whom he 
felt such contempt, and begged for a file or two 
to accompany him in the search for Wilfred. To 
no avail however, was the search extended, for 
neither Captain Church nor any one with him 
saw the lad for many a long day thereafter, as 
he was kept a prisoner by Metacomet, who re- 
tained him with him, even in his flight. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


A FUGITIVE IN THE INDIANS* COUNTRY. 

So confident and vainglorious were the Eng- 
lish forces, that they really believed they had all 
but subdued the mighty sachem, King Philip of 
Pokanoket, merely because they had brought his 
■warriors to combat in Pocasset swamp. They 
had, as they thought, found out his retreat, and, 
though the swamp was vast, being more than 
seven miles in extent, they succeeded ultimately 
in surrounding the heart of it, where Philip was 
believed to be hidden, and considered him almost 
as good as taken. Those were the very words 
used by the commander-in-chief of the combined 
Plymouth and Massachusetts forces, in his re- 
port to his superiors at Boston, the officials of 
the “ great and general court.” 

But, while that very report was being trans- 
mitted to Boston, a band of warriors issued from 
181 


182 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


the swamp, and after killing half a dozen people 
of Pocasset Neck, burned their houses and de- 
vastated their fields. Then they appeared again, 
in an altogether different locality, carrying fire 
and slaughter with them and leaving behind, 
when they retreated into the swamp a second 
time, many ruined homes and blood-stained 
hearthstones. 

Then all the people were gathered together in 
a few large and well fortified garrison-houses, 
and labor in the field, as well as travel on the 
highways, was almost entirely given up. Of all 
the hundreds gathered to find and attack the wily 
sachem of Pokanoket, there seemed to be but one 
little band, and one commander, who knew how 
to combat him. That band and that commander 
we have already met, and have seen how com- 
pletely the strategy of King Philip triumphed 
over that of the gallant Captain Church and his 
men. When the Captain came to reflect upon it, 
he saw clearly enough that, instead of beating 
Metacomet, in the “ great swamp fight,” he had 
been, in effect, defeated, completely outgeneraled 
at every point. 

“ Ods codfish ! ” he remarked to himself, one 
day, after returning from another of the “ wild- 


A FUGITIVE IN THE INDIANS COUNTRY. 183 

goose chases ” through the swamp, whose dank 
and miry depths he had in vain explored for the 
third or fourth time; “but that pagan, Meta- 
com, is a wily divil. Here I have been right at 
his heels, as I thought, two or three times run- 
ning; have been at the verge of catching him by 
the hair, as ’twere, eke as many times, also; yet 
cannot say that I’ve had a sight of him, yet! 
Moreover, sooth to say, I can’t fell if we have 
truly killed any of his men; though as to that, 
we ourselves have lost at least a score. At this 
rate’s goings-on, I’ faith, he will conquer us, 
rather than that we shall conquer him ! ” 

“ Ye’re become the laughing-stock of those 
pagans in the swamp,” he said to Captain 
Henchman of the Plymouth forces, who, after 
the manner of the Massachusetts men, had 
stopped the chase at the verge of the swamp, and 
sat down to build a fort. “ Wherefore build we 
a fort at this place, where there is nothing to 
defend, and not one Indian savage to slay? 
Wherefore, but for the orders ye have received 
from those nincompoops at Boston, say I.” 

“ Treason, worthy Captain, thou’rt talking,” 
protested Henchman, “ to so question the mo- 
tives, yea, and the wisdom, of our superiors, who 


184 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


are grave and reverend men, at all events, 
worthy thy respect. 

“ Knowest thou, it is ill fighting a wild beast 
in his own den, and neither I nor my men are 
willing, forsooth, to run into the mire and muck 
of a dark swamp, having been taught by our late 
experience how dangerous it is to fight in such 
dismal woods, when our eyes be muffled with 
leaves, our arms pinioned with the shaggy boughs 
of the trees, and our feet shackled with ye roots, 
spread every-which-away in those boggy fast- 
nesses. Therefore have I resolved, the great 
council concurring, eke to starve the heathen out 
of ye swamp, where I know full well they cannot 
long subsist, since we have destroyed King 
Philip’s fields of corn, yea, all his standing grain 
in the fields. To the end, therefore, that this 
may be accomplished, I have concluded to build 
here a fort, and there a fort, as it were to be- 
leaguer ye enemy, and prevent their escape out 
of ye places where, in sooth, we have them fast 
now.” 

“ So say ye,” replied Captain Church, quite 
scornfully; “ so say ye, forsooth; but, methinks 
Metacom be not unbeknowing of all that is taking 
place. He can read herein his doom, if doom it 


A FUGITIVE IN THE INDIANS’ COUNTRY. 185 

be, and, knowing full well that if he tarry longer 
he may fall into our hands — from whom, indeed, 
he hath no cause to hope for mercy — think ye he 
will linger? Nay, forsooth, at this very time he 
may be on his way to other regions, there to 
burn, destroy and slay ! ” 

It was even as this perspicacious Captain had 
predicted, — though he knew it not — for within 
a few days it became known that Philip had in- 
deed escaped from the great swamp into the 
country of the Nipmucks, who were already 
friendly to him and gave him advantage to rav- 
age the lands adjacent to the Boston territory. 

Finding all the exits by land well guarded by 
the settlers’ troops, and wishing at that time to 
avoid an encounter with them, Philip set his men 
at work making rafts of logs, which they con- 
cealed in the creeks and waters leading to the 
arm of the sea ’twixt the swamp and Taunton, 
and one dark night, after posting two hundred of 
his warriors as a rear-guard, he withdrew quietly 
from his place of concealment, leaving there, 
when the rear-guard itself had followed him out, 
only a few hundred women and children. These 
non-combatants were likely to impede his mo- 
tions, which were thereafter to be rapid and er- 


186 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


ratic, from one end of New England to the other, 
in order to confuse the settlers and give them no 
point at which to aim. 

Yet the trusting Captain Henchman replied 
to the more experienced Church, when he sug- 
gested the possibility of such an escape, “ I 
tell thee, comrade, we have him now as in a 
pound, where it will be no hard matter to deal 
with him, when the occasion arise. Within a 
week, methinks, the great sachem will himself 
come forth and offer to surrender.” 

“ Ho, will he? ” scoffed Captain Church. 
“ Nay, simpleton. Perchance ye want word with 
Philip, ye must seek him in his haunts, varlets. 
This, henceforth, shall be my purpose. I will 
conjoin with no troop of regulars, spending val- 
uable time within a fort, in vain expectancy of the 
foe coming to deliver himself up, forsooth; but 
with my little band of yeomen I will hang upoij 
his heels, so that in the end he shall be brought 
to earth, as though he were a wolf, or a stag, that 
hath been persistenly dogged by ye hounds.” 

This mode of pursuit was faithfully followed 
by the gallant Captain, until, as he had said, he 
accomplished his end through very persistency. 
But it was only gained through the treachery of 


A FUGITIVE IN THE INDIANS’ COUNTRY. 187 

an Indian in Philip’s own company, who guided 
Church and his men to the sachem’s retreat, after 
many weary months of hunting. Speaking as 
one who views the matter critically, and without 
expressing sympathy for either party, Philip 
made a fatal mistake in allowing Captain Church 
and his band to escape, that first time they fell 
into his ambuscade, when he might have killed 
them, every one. He had opportunities after- 
ward, also, of putting his deadly enemy out of 
the way ; but he was then hampered by the pres- 
ence of his young friend, Wilfred, who acted as 
a check upon his aims and cruel purposes. 

Now, in order to ascertain just what was 
happening within the swamp — which we have 
seen beleaguered by a cordon of English troops, 
— let us transport ourselves once again to the 
wigwam on the knoll, where we left Philip and 
Wilfred engaged in earnest conversation respect- 
ing the situation of the latter’s friends while 
being driven out of the swamp by the Indians. 

“ How is it,” Wilfred asked his friend, “ that 
you can command all your warriors, sending 
them hither and thither, making them attack or 
retreat, at your will, without being on the field 
yourself? ” 


188 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


“ Ha, that my secret,” answered Philip, with a 
low chuckle. “ First, train men to mind. Kill 
many warrior before they learn. Now, what me 
say, they do. Never disobey ! ” 

“ But how do you get your commands to them? 
I’ve seen no messengers.” 

“ No? ” The sachem chuckled again ; but after 
a moment’s thought, he gave a shrill, prolonged 
whistle, which had hardly escaped him when a 
lithe young Indian appeared, naked down to his 
waist and up to his thighs, straight as a poplar, 
and shining like a golden statue. He might 
have come up out of the ground; for he certainly 
did not come in from outside the hut; but there 
he was, standing at “ attention,” watchful, alert, 
ready for Philip’s commands. The sachem said 
a few words in the Wamponoag tongue, and off 
darted the Indian youth, like an arrow from a 
bow, and was out of the wigwam in a jiffy, glid- 
ing along as silently as an owl in the air. 

“ In five minute, p’raps ten, we hear three gun, 
over there,” said Philip, with a motion of his 
hand to the westward. Wilfred listened and 
wondered, and he wondered all the more when, 
after about six minutes had passed, there were 


A FUGITIVE IN THE INDIANS’ COUNTRY. 1§9 

the reports of three guns, one after the other, at 
regular intervals. 

“ Ha ! ” said Philip. “ What that mean, you 
say? No matter what it mean; but you hear it, 
no? It what I say, no? That how I get orders 
to my sagamore. Never once have to go into 
field. Me know all the country, — carry map in 
my head, and move men like — like — what you 
call the game English play on board? ” 

“ You mean chess, I suppose,” replied Wilfred. 

“ Yes, me mean that, all my braves move like 
chess-men, you see.” 

“ IPs wonderful,” exclaimed the boy. “ I don’t 
see how my people are going to prevail against 
you, unless they bring a great force ! ” 

“ Ah, that it ; they have soldier, like leaves on 
trees, like grass in field; while me, — me have 
only few thousand men, and when they gone, no 
use. English come right up out of sea, more and 
more ! ” 

“ Yes,” assented Wilfred, u the cause of the 
white settlers is that, also, of all civilized people. 
The cause of the Indian is that of a race which 
must pass away, because it does nothing for the 
good of the world ! ” 

“What, you think that? You know that? 


190 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


But why? Great Spirit make Indian, same he 
make white people. No fair to kill Injun for 
white.” 

“ It seems so, that’s a fact ; but you can’t stand 
against the might of the white race. Sooner or 
later, you will be overcome ! ” 

“ Think so? Me no think that. Me kill all — 
yes, kill all white people.” 

“ You can’t do it, Metacom. More will come 
in, even if you kill all who live here now — which 
will be impossible. Remember, the white man is 
far more ingenious than the Indian. What, you 
don’t believe it? Well, then, why do you use 
muskets, in place of the bows and arrows your 
people used to have — have now, in fact, — those 
too poor to buy muskets? ” 

“ Oh, musket better’n bow-arrow ; shoot more, 
hit better.” 

“ Yes, that is so ; but who made the musket, 
and who gave it to you? The white men, of 
course; and moreover, the Indians had lived thou- 
sands of years without ever inventing such a 
weapon, and might live thousands more without 
it. 

“ Why, they never discovered the uses of iron, 
and gold, and silver; never made a single piece 


A FUGITIVE IN THE INDIANS’ COUNTRY. 191 

of machinery; never sailed a larger boat than a 
canoe; never owned a house bigger than a wig- 
wam; and, lastly, while the white people are 
scattered all over the earth and have communica- 
tion with each other, and come to each other’s 
assistance when required, the Indians are but a 
feeble folk, and instead of uniting against their 
enemies, they all pull apart, never hanging to- 
gether long enough to do anything.” 

King Philip’s countenance and attitude, dur- 
ing this arraignment of his race, were suggestive 
of his thoughts. As Wilfred progressed with the 
enumeration of his people’s failings he said 
again and again, “ True, it is true; my people 
no good ! ” But, as the youth named their chief 
failing, which was a lack of union and mutual 
help, his attitude changed. A thought was born, 
due to the boy’s suggestion, and it was this: He 
would try with all his might to unite all the 
tribes of Eastern North America against the 
hated white folks. If he could do this, he knew, 
they would outnumber their enemies, and perhaps 
be able to overpower them. He at once bright- 
ened up. 

“ Thank, Little Sagamore,” he said. “ What 
you say, too true. But my people, they fight, and 


192 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


my people, they can die ! P’raps not all feel this 
way; but most; and this way me feel: Better 
die fighting, than have white man for friend ! ” 

“ But why choose to die, Philip, when you may 
live, perhaps live to be of great good to your 
people? Not here, methinks, for you have out- 
raged the feelings of both Plymouth and Massa- 
chusetts ; but in some other country, w r hich might 
be given you? ” 

“ No, no, never go to other land. Many 
Injuns they make to go a’ready, — send ’em off 
for slaves. Plymouth people, Massagusset people 
— they have nothing but hate, now, for Metacom. 
You know what they put in treaty they make, 
this month, with Narraganset sachems? No? 
listen: Here ’tis ! My brother, he go Harvard 
college, make writing for me of what in that 
treaty. Here ’tis, what he send me, only day two 
ago.” 

Philip drew a scroll of paper from a buckskin 
pouch that hung by a thong from the roof-tree 
of the wigwam, and handed it to Wilfred, who 
read: 

“ Article VI. 

“ The said gentlemen, in the behalf of the gov- 
ernments (Plymouth, Massachusetts, and Con- 


A FUGITIVE IN THE INDIANS’ COUNTRY. 193 

necticut) to which they belong, do engage to 
every the said sachems of the Narragansets, that 
if they or any of them shall seize and bring into 
any of the above-said English governments, 
Philip Sachem alive, he or they so delivering, 
shall receive for their pains, forty trucking cloth 
coats ; in case they bring his heady they shall have 
twenty like good coats paid them ! For every 
living subject of said Philip’s so delivered, the 
deliverer shall receive two coats, and for every 
head one coat, as a gratuity for their service 
herein, making it appear to satisfaction that the 
heads or persons are belongings to the enemy, 
and that they are of their seizure ! ” * 

“Now what you think? That what you call 
civilize, eh? You gov’ment make treaty with 
Narragansets, (my friend,) take hostage from 
’em, make ’em promise to get me, or get my head! 
Think what that mean ! ” 

“ I can hardly believe it,” said Wilfred. “ It is 
too horrible ! ” 

“ Yes? You must b’lieve it. It true ! And you 
people blame Metacom for cutting off English 

* A literal transcript from treaty negotiated with the Narra- 
gansets, July 15, 1675, by Commissioners of Connecticut and 
Massachusetts. 

13 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


194 

mans’ heads and sticking on poles? Ugh! 
Sometime, me stick heads of Plymouth gov’nor 
and Massagussetts gov’nor on pole, too! See if 
don’t!” 

Metacomet rose and strode about the wigwam 
in great wrath, clinching his fists and throwing 
his arms about as if he would like to get those 
colonial governors by the throat. He did not 
calm down for quite a while, and meantime Wil- 
fred was debating the possible value of his own 
life, should Philip conclude to keep him as a hos- 
tage. He dared not any further venture with a 
proposal for Philip to consent to cease fighting, 
or empower him to act as a peace commissioner 
with the colonial governments, for they had 
placed themselves beyond the pale by their own 
acts, or acts having their sanction, which were a 
disgrace to the civilization they professed. 

So he concluded to ask the King for permis- 
sion to return; but Philip seemed to have divined 
the thoughts in his mind, and at last spoke out 
and said : “ You see me no can treat with fork- 
tongue serpent like them. They offer price for 
my head, same as if me wolf, or fox; no think 
me man like they. No, no, after this me ask no 
favor, fight , fight , fight , night and day, all time! 


A FUGITIVE IN THE INDIANS’ COUNTRY. 195 

And you — me keep you to see if me fight fair. 
No hurt you, no make fight ’gainst you friend; 
but you stay with Metaeom, all, all time ! ” 

“ But, Metaeom, I would like to go back. No 
use for me to stay here.” 

“ No stay here,” repeated Philip, grimly; 
“ can’t stay here, for soon soldier come, look for 
you. Then ’bliged kill many more. You hide.” 

“ I would like to see my mother, Metaeom. She 
will grieve sorely.” 

“ Yes, she grieve. But Indian mother grieve, 
too, when son killed. You no worry. Me get 
word to mother, you well. Get word on morrow.” 

“ Thank you, Metaeom. But, why keep me at 
all? I can do you no good.” 

“ So you say; but have reason. You my friend? 
Good, got no other friend, want you stay, so not 
forget what white mans look like. More — me 
have little boy; want you take care him, too, so 
if me die, he have friend — white friend.” 

Philip’s face softened, at thought of his child, 
and through the black war-paint on his cheeks 
two great tears trickled down. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE WHITE MAN'S DEADLY ENEMY. 

Philip kept his word with Wilfred, and the 
very next day sent a messenger to inform his 
family that he was safe and well. Wilfred 
yearned to go himself, and could hardly restrain 
himself. He pleaded with Philip for just one 
glimpse of his mother and sister, promising to re- 
turn with the messenger, if he insisted; but the 
chief was inexorable. So he contented himself 
with writing a missive on birch bark, (having no 
paper) using the juice of pokeberries, (having no 
ink), which the Indians called the “ red-ink ber- 
ries." When his mother saw the missive, written 
with the crimson fluid, her heart gave a great 
bound, and she nearly fainted, thinking the lad 
had used his own blood, and conjuring up many 
horrors attending his situation, which really did 
not exist. 


196 


THE WHITE MAN’S DEADLY ENEMY. 197 

The Indian messenger gained the Fort on 
the hill without startling the inhabitants of the 
stronghold, by first waylaying Winthrop as he 
went forth to feed his sheep. He had been ex- 
pecting some such arrival, and so was not as- 
tonished at the appearance of the young savage, 
holding above his head the roll of bark. He con- 
ducted him to the Fort, and while he was at 
breakfast the family discussed various schemes 
for delivering Wilfred from his thraldom; but all 
to no purpose. The best the messenger would do 
was to take a small package made up by Mother 
Wilkins, and one of Dorothy’s dolls, which, with 
many misgivings, she sent to comfort her 
brother. 

There was no use in attempting to converse 
with the Indian, for, acting under strict instruc- 
tions from his sachem, he pretended not to under- 
stand a word of English, answering all their 
eager questions with grunts, at the same time 
with a twinkle in his eyes which belied his pre- 
tensions. Winthrop, at the last, made as if to 
accompany him back to Philip’s camp; but the 
Indian was so emphatic in his refusal, even 
brandishing his tomahawk menacingly, that he 
desisted from the attempt, and was compelled to 


198 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


remain at the sheepfold, while the young warrior 
leaped into the bush and disappeared. 

Wilfred’s joy at receiving news from his family 
was great, of course ; but it was tempered by the 
reflection that, for the first time in his life, he 
was restrained from joining them by an over- 
powering will inimical to his best interests. Met- 
acomet seemed as pleased as himself at sight of 
the simple gifts, and when he drew forth from the 
bundle a gayly-colored handkerchief and handed 
it to him, as a present from his mother, he w r as 
delighted. He immediately tied it around his 
head, proclaiming to the sagamores, who were 
by this time crowding around and into the wig- 
wam, that the family to which his captive be- 
longed, and from which the messenger had just 
returned, was, on no account whatever, to be 
molested. They signified their assent by guttural 
“ hughs,” and look significantly at each other, 
“ hughs ” and looked significantly at each other, 

If a stranger had been present, without any 
information as to previous happenings, he might 
have thought this a family gathering, around a 
peddler who had chanced in with his wares, for 
there was no sign of hostility on either side. The 
sagamores, in fact, already looked upon Wilfred 


THE WHITE MAN’S DEADLY ENEMY. 199 

as one of themselves, the most intimate friend and 
companion of their great sachem, so he was 
hedged about by a self-appointed body-guard, 
any member of which would have risked his life 
to protect him. At the same time, there was no 
concealing the fact that they looked on him as a 
prisoner, or rather a hostage, who was on his 
honor to make no attempt to escape. 

When, at last, in exploring the bundle, Wil- 
fred came to the doll that little Dorothy had sent 
him, there was a great shout of surprise and 
pleasure — for these simple “ children of nature,” 
though they were, most of them, sagamores, or 
sub-chiefs, still, were very simple children of 
Mother Nature, and easily pleased or vexed. 
They had never seen such a doll as this before, for 
dear little Dorothy had sent her very best, her 
choicest treasure, the “ beloved rag baby.” 

Then, sure enough, Wilfred’s tears did start, 
and, ashamed of his emotions, he turned his head 
aside and bent over as if to examine the object 
further, with the big drops falling on dolly’s face. 
The boy’s feelings were perfectly understood by 
that throng of half-barbaric warriors, for they 
knew he was thinking of the loved one, from 
whom had come this gift, right from a child’s in- 


200 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


Docent heart. Some of those very warriors had, 
perchance, dashed out the brains of children as 
sweet and innocent as Dorothy, in their raids 
upon the colonists; yet, they could not only un- 
derstand, but sympathize with, the youth’s emo- 
tions, and kept perfect silence while he wept. 

When, smiling up through his tears, Wilfred 
passed dolly to Philip, for inspection, the chief 
received the dainty object with a grave tender- 
ness that was reflected in the faces of all about 
him. After examining it most curiously, he 
passed it to one of his sagamores, who in turn 
gave it critical attention, evidently well pleased 
at the privilege, then handed it along, until it had 
gone the rounds. 

The Indian messenger, the Apollo-like youth 
who had made the journey to Hilltop and return, 
without hope or expectation of reward, was 
standing by, with arms folded, deeply interested 
in the doings of the lad, but taking no part in 
the proceedings. To him, as he came to the last 
object of importance in the package, Wilfred 
presented that object, which was a big hunting- 
knife, with bright and shining blade. As he took 
it up and handed it to the Indian, the latter drew 


THE WHITE MAN’S DEADLY ENEMY. 201 

back in surprise, for evidently the last thing he 
thought of was payment for his services. 

“ For you,” said Wilfred. “ You have been 
good friend, now take this.” 

The young man’s eyes sparkled, but, surprised 
into speaking English — the tongue he professed 
no knowledge of at Hilltop — he exclaimed, “ Me 
no want; big sachem no let me take gift! ” 

“ You will let him, won’t you? ” asked Wilfred, 
looking at Philip. 

“ If you want ; but he glad to serve you.” 
Then, turning to the delighted Indian, who 
stretched out his hand most eagerly for the knife, 
he said, in Wampanoag language, “ Take it, but 
use it to defend him, if chance occur; after this 
you are his body-guard. Stay near him.” 

The messenger gladly assented, and as he 
strapped the knife at his waist he looked proudly 
at his new master, first, then around the circle of 
warriors for their approbation. They merely 
grunted, as usual when they did not wish to be- 
tray their feelings, and soon the party broke up, 
for tidings were arriving of the near approach of 
the foe. This was just previous to the second at- 
tack of Captain Church, when he lost several of 
his men and was driven out of the swamp. Hav- 


202 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


in g prepared in advance for that contingency, 
Philip paid no more attention to the settlers’ 
coming than to give orders to his sagamores, who 
all went off to their respective posts. 

Turning again to Wilfred, after the two were 
left alone with no other company than the newly- 
appointed body-guard, Philip said : 

“ Little Sagamore, this no place for you. To- 
night we go to Pokanoket, where squaw live, and 
son. Me want see boy. He all I got. Want you 
be friend to him. When big fight come, you and 
squaw, and boy all be in safe place. Get ready, 
leave when dark come.” 

Thus it happened that, while his sagamores 
made their last fight in the swamp against the 
soldiers, and conducted the retreat which their 
sachem had so wisely organized, Philip and Wil- 
fred were speeding, with a small body of war- 
riors, in the direction of Mount Hope. All night, 
they traveled, and when the boy become w T eary, 
several of the warriors made a litter of boughs 
and carried him in relays, until the dawn of 
morning broke. 

Philip had been aware of the devastations com- 
mitted by the soldiers; of the destruction of his 
vast fields of corn, comprising more than a thou- 


THE WHITE MAN’S DEADLY ENEMY. 203 

sand acres; the burning of his wigwams, the cap- 
ture of women, children and old men, who had 
been left behind ; but his anger, when freshly re- 
minded of these things by re-visiting his home, 
was fearful to witness. Through it all, however, 
he uttered no word, made no sign, of hostility 
to his white captive, but treated him with uni- 
form consideration. 

The party at last arrived at the rocky elevation, 
near what is now Bristol, in Rhode Island, known 
as the residence of Pokanoket; where Philip long 
had held sway as king of the Wampanoags, and 
also his noble father, Massasoit, many years be- 
fore him. Instead, however, of finding there the 
large collection of huts which once constituted 
the royal settlement, dominated by the vast wig- 
wam in which Philip made his home, the visitors 
saw nothing but ruin and desolation on every 
side. 

Very naturally, indeed, the white invaders had 
first turned to Philip’s settlement at Mount Hope, 
in search of him, and, failing in that, had wrought 
him all the ruin that was in their power. And 
King Philip would not have gained the reputa- 
tion as a great strategist, (which even his enemies 
have accorded him) had he remained there await- 


204 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


ing their approach. He had, as we have seen, 
swiftly evacuated his quarters at Mount Hope, 
and as swiftly carried the war into the enemies’ 
country, after the first depredations had been 
committed. 

He took Wilfred by the hand, and going with 
him to the great rock on the crest of the hill, 
called his attention to the scene of desolation 
spread out before them. Beyond the immediate 
environs of the ruined settlement, a fair scene 
was outspread beneath and for miles around the 
Mount, and it is noted to-day as a beautiful pros- 
pect, which appealed to the savage as well as to 
his successor, the white settler, who lost no time, 
when the war was over, in appropriating his erst- 
while place of residence. 

Standing there, silent, for a time immovable, 
Philip made a most impressive picture ; and when, 
after contemplating his lost territory a while, 
with face sternly set and hands clenched hard 
together, he turned to the lad and simply said, 
in a hard, tense voice, “ You no can blame me? ” 
Wilfred was in full sympathy with the stricken 
warrior. 

“ Not for defending your home,” he replied. 


THE WHITE MAN'S DEADLY ENEMY. 205 

“ I wish I could help you win it back. Who 
knows, it may not be too late ! ” 

“ Too late ! ” murmured Philip, with a proud 
toss of his head. “ Too late now. Reward of- 
fered for Metacom, ‘ live or dead ! 9 99 

Signing Wilfred to follow, he retreated from 
the brow of the hill, and taking an obscure trail 
through the forest northward, walked thereon for 
nearly an hour, finally arriving at a deep but 
narrow ravine, which, like a canyon, cleft the 
table-land over which they had been traveling. 
Arrived at its brink, they seemed to have further 
progress cut off entirely by the steep wall that 
descended from their feet to a roaring river in 
its depths. 

Turning sharply westward, Philip led the way 
along the brink of the precipice, through a thick 
wood filled with underbrush, to a point where the 
two walls of the chasm approached till hardly 
more than thirty feet apart. The great depth of 
the chasm was still preserved, however, and from 
the dark recesses beneath came up the increased 
roar of the river, now fretted by cascades and 
waterfalls. 

“ White soldier not go more than here,” said 


206 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAP. 


Philip. “ They ’fraid. Here my warrior make 
last stand, here they stop ! ” 

“ And well they might have been afraid to go 
further,” thought Wilfred, peering over the pre- 
cipice verge into the rumbling depths. 

A giant pine-tree had fallen across the chasm, 
and upon its trunk, full three feet in diameter 
and hedged with an abatis of great limbs, which 
formed a secure railing on either hand, Philip 
and his captive walked over to the other side. 
They were greeted there by the warriors of the 
body-guard, who had preceded them, several of 
whom stayed behind to watch the bridge. 

“ Somebody always here,” explained Philip, 
as he saw Wilfred regarding the sentries curi- 
ously. “ They hold that bridge ’gainst a hun- 
dred ! ” 

“ And if you only had a cannon,” said Wilfred 
quickly, before he thought upon the fateful sug- 
gestion in his words, “ you could hold it against 
a thousand ! ” 

“Ho, that so!” exclaimed Metacom. “You 
great boy. Me never think that. Have got can- 
non, down in plain. Send for ’em, mount him 
here, (*ot cannon, got powder; that make island 
safe!” 


THE WHITE MAN’S DEADLY ENEMY. 207 

To think (when his safety was involved) was 
to act, with King Philip, and within an hour he 
had twoscore men scampering through the forest 
to the place where his cannon was concealed. It 
was only an old field-piece, which he had picked 
up in an abandoned fort; but it served his pur- 
pose well, later in the game, and Wilfred had 
cause to regret, for his white friends’ sake, this 
sinister suggestion to his red friend Philip, sa- 
chem of the Wampanoags. 

The cannon was mounted at the “ island ” end 
of the pine-tree, and served to defend the bridge 
across the chasm so well that the spot became 
memorable in the events of the time. Meanwhile, 
Philip and Wilfred were approaching the crest 
of this island-hill, where it rose to a point like 
the top of a sugar-loaf, upon which, surrounded 
by immense pines and hemlocks, was perched a 
wigwam made of stout poles covered over with 
bark. Some knowledge of their coming must 
have preceded them, for in the doorway stood a 
handsome Indian squaw, holding by the hand a 
beautiful little boy about seven years of age. Not 
a word was said by either party, as the two 
groups mingled; but Philip, after patting his 


208 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


squaw on the cheek, stooped down and gathered 
his son in his arms. 

“ This my boy,” he said to Wilfred, holding the 
child above his head, then lowering him to his 
shoulder. “ And this my squaw — my wife. 
These two hold my heart, but me no see ’em for 
long time ! ” 

Metacom’s wife smiled pleasantly, and throw- 
ing an arm over his disengaged shoulder, drew 
him into the wigwam, where she had spread a 
feast of good things for the visitors. 

“ Come in, Little Sagamore,” cried Philip 
cheerily.” Wife have good breakfast for us 
ready. After you eat, you sleep ; me too, for all- 
night work make tired.” 

Setting their muskets in a corner of the hut, 
and taking, each, a stool made from the split 
broadside of a hemlock trunk, with its limbs for 
legs, the new arrivals drew up to the rude table, 
where the main dish was a huge bowl of samp, 
flanked by meats of various kinds, all smoking 
hot. 

In the throat of a stick-and-clay chimney 
(which had been copied after that of the settlers) 
hung a great iron pot, in which the samp had 
been boiled, and which then contained another 


THE WHITE MAN’S DEADLY ENEMY. 209 

portion, being stirred vigorously by a comely 
Indian maiden of about Wilfred’s age. 

“ My wife sister,” said Philip, indicating the 
maiden with a sweep of his hand. “ She talk 
English ; been school in Plymouth ; but my wife, 
she no talk, only Wampanoag. She name Weet- 
amoe, after squaw-sachem, my sister, and boy 
name Pometacom. That all, now you know 
family you live with when me gone. Now eat.” 

Being very hungry, Wilfred needed no urging, 
and though the fare was coarse, he enjoyed it 
greatly, especially the samp, which, as Philip ex- 
plained, was made from maize, or corn, saved 
from fields on the outskirts of the Indian set- 
tlement, overlooked by the soldiers in their 
raid. 

“Got great pit full maize,” said Philip; “but 
don’t know how many have to feed. P’raps 
bymeby have to eat acorn, eh? ” — addressing his 
wife, who sat opposite, ready to serve, but not 
eating. 

He repeated the remark in Wampanoag, and 
she replied, smiling into his eyes, and looking at 
him and their boy as if perfectly content now that 
the family was re-united. 

“ She say,” said Philip, with a happy smile, 
14 


210 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


“ that she willing to eat acorn all her life, if only 
we can stay all time. What you say, son?” 

Up to this time the little boy had not uttered a 
word, but he snuggled into his father’s arms as if 
he, too, were quite contented, now that the wan- 
derer had returned. He said nothing, however, 
but, sticking a chubby finger into his mouth, 
gazed at Wilfred in open-eyed admiration. 

“ He like you,” said Metacomet. “ That good, 
for he no have brother, no sister; only mother 
and aunt. Me no want him grow up with girl; 
want him be with men, so make warrior when 
big.” 

“ To fight the white people?” asked Wilfred. 
“ In that case, I don’t think I can train him. 
You must not expect me to do that.” 

“ That what he do,” replied Metacomet sav- 
agely. “ He must never make friend with white 
mans. They always his enemy. Forever, ever ! ” 


CHAPTER XV. 


WAR PARTIES SCOUTING THE COUNTRY. 

The wigwam was divided by a partition into 
two parts, and overhead was a loft — for it was- a 
different hut from the average, and evidently 
built for the purpose for which it was then used. 

Generally, the Indians of that time lodged in 
huts or wigwams built for an entire family, some- 
times for a whole tribe, if not too large; but this 
particular habitation was an exception. It had, 
besides, what was unusual in the wigwams of 
that period, a rude chimney, so that the smoke 
from the fire, which was always burning, went 
out-of-doors without first permeating the entire 
hut, as was the case with the others. 

A writer of the seventeenth century, who 
visited the Wampanoags, says of them and their 
ways, “ They live in wigwams, or houses made of 
mats or boughs, like little huts, the fire in the 
211 


212 * IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 

midst of the house. They cut down a tree with 
axes and hatchets bought of the English, Dutch 
or French, and bring in the butt end into the 
wigwam upon the hearth, and so burn it by de- 
grees. 

They live upon parched corne (which of late 
they grind at our English mills) venison, beavers, 
otters, oisters, clammes, lobsters and other fish, 
ground-nuts, akornes, etc., which they boyle all 
together in a bigge kettle. 

Their riches are their wampom (wampum) 
bolles (bowles), trayes, kettles and spoones, 
beaver furres, and canoos. They lye upon a 
matte, with a stone or piece of wood under their 
heads. They will give the best entertainment 
they can to any English coming amongst them. 
They will not taste sweet things nor alter their 
habit willingly; onely they are taken with to- 
bacco, wine and strong waters, like rumme and 
usquebaugh (whiskey) ; and I have seen some of 
them in English and French clothes. Their ordi- 
nary weapons are bowes and arrowes, and long 
staves or half-pikes, with pieces of swords, dag- 
gers, or knives in the ends of them. They have 
Captaines, and are very good at a short (or near) 
mark, and nimble of foot to run away. Their 


WAR PARTIES SCOUTING THE COUNTRY. 213 

manner of fighting is most commonly all in one 
fyle (single file). They are many in number, and 
worship Kitan their good God, or Hobbomocco, 
their evil God ; but more fear the latter, because 
he doeth them the most harm.” 

These notes by a contemporary will serve to ex- 
plain the manner of people among whom Wilfred 
was now domiciled, and the scant accommoda- 
tions which, at best, were his when Philip left 
him in charge of the wigwam and went off to 
carry on the war, already raging in the western 
part of what is now the state of Massachusetts. 
Brought up as he had been in the severe simplic- 
ity of a Pilgrim household, with only the com- 
forts obtainable in a frontier settlement, the lad 
was prepared to “ rough it ” with the Indians, 
without experiencing any great degree of hard- 
ship. 

So, when Metacom, next morning, called him 
down from the loft in the wigwam, which had 
been assigned him as his quarters, he felt that he 
had nothing to complain of. On the contrary, 
barring the fact that he was a prisoner on the 
“ island,” he found little in the situation which 
excited his apprehension. He had said his 
prayers the night before, just previous to lying 


214 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


upon the corn-husks furnished for a bed, and 
having committed himself to God, had fallen 
asleep without delay. 

Daylight had long since appeared when Philip 
called him, and breakfast was already waiting. 
As he descended the rude ladder from the loft, 
he found little Pometacom waiting for him at 
the foot of it, having probably been instructed 
by his father that henceforth he was to look to 
him for protection. As the fat little fingers slid 
into his palm, Wilfred felt a sense of comfort, 
and love for the youngster born of the circum- 
stances in which they were placed. He seated 
him next himself, and having greeted Philip and 
his wife, awaited his turn to be served. The 
fare was similar to that of the night before, but 
Wilfred’s appetite was still good, and, being 
absorbed in thought of what was com mg next, he 
ate the food placed before him almost without 
knowing what it was. 

“ You lord of wigwam now,” said Philip, “ for 
soon me go talk to Narraganset. They make 
treaty with English; but me make ’em break it. 
After, go see Pequot, then Mohigan, then 
Mohawk — travel far — jpin ’em all against white 


WAR PARTIES SCOUTING THE COUNTRY. 215 

mans. What you say wise talk; owe you 
thanks ! ” 

“ I’ll keep my mouth shut, after this,” an- 
swered Wilfred, vexed to think that he had put 
a suggestion of confederacy into Philip’s mind. 
“ I want you to understand that I will not ally 
with you against my white friends. You have me 
prisoner, you can kill me, if you like ; but you can- 
not make me fight against my own kith and 
kin.” 

“Not want,” replied Philip. “Not want kill 
you, neither. You not und’stand: you safe here; 
in settlement you get kill.” 

“ I would rather die, then, fighting with my 
people, than live here knowing they were in 
danger. My place is by their side.” 

“Yes, mebbe; but so they go to Hilltop Fort, 
they all safe. That place my warrior no touch, 
even if me get killed, they have orders.” 

These w 7 ere almost the last wwds the sachem 
said to Wilfred previous to departure, having 
already instructed him as to what was to be ex- 
pected of him while he w 7 as absent. He then em- 
braced his wife, took Pometacom in his arms, and 
led the way back to the pine-bridge, where his 
little army was waiting his coming. The Indians 


216 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


composing it had toiled all night, and the result 
of their labors was apparent in the rusty old 
cannon, which they had mounted so as to com- 
mand the bridge. It was rudely mounted, to be 
sure, but firmly, and undoubtedly would serve 
the intended purpose well, provided any of the 
Indians knew how to serve it. But, though they 
were very proud of their achievement, and were 
commended by Metacomet for their success thus 
far, not one could boast of being able either to 
load the piece, or fire it off. 

“ What you say? ” asked Philip of Wilfred. 
“ S’pose you know how load cannon ; how fire it 
off, eh? Why not show my men? Here gun, here 
powder, here ball ; don’ know how use ’em. Injun 
great fool ! ” 

“Yes,” answered Wilfred bitterly; “and if I 
show him how — make him wise, he will turn his 
talents against my own people, perhaps.” 

“ Don’t know. P’raps so. Can’t do much 
harm, for soldier not come here.” 

“Not yet; but if they should find out this 
place, do you expect me to use the cannon on 
them? ” 

“ Oh, do as please,” exclaimed Metacomet, 
gruffly. “ S’pose they not come ! ” 


WAR PARTIES SCOUTING THE COUNTRY. 217 

“ Well, perhaps they won’t,” rejoined Wilfred. 
“ Anyway, I’ll show you how to load the gun, 
just for fun. Here goes. Give me the powder.” 

Under his instructions, the Indians rammed 
home a light charge of powder, and having 
primed the vent, after previously reaming it 
out with a piece of wire, Wilfred touched a burn- 
ing coal to it, which had been brought from the 
hearth-fire in the wigwam. 

Bang! loudly spoke the cannon, the wadding 
having been rammed home hard atop the powder, 
and a dense volume of smoke went up through 
the trees. 

The savages were delighted, not only at the 
loud report, but to find that the cannon stood the 
test, not moving a particle from the blocks of 
wood on which it had been mounted. They 
chattered a while together, like a lot of crows, 
then Philip said: “ Now we want see it load to 
kill. Put in ball, shoot enemy.” 

“ But there isn’t any enemy in sight,” said 
Wilfred. 

“ No, know that; but make b’lieve he there. 
Shoot him — Pam ! ” 

u All right, so long ’s there’s no enemy to shoot 
at, I don’t mind loading up the cannon ‘ to 


218 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


kill ’ ; ” and he proceeded to do so, forthwith. 
The balls were of various sizes, some too large, 
others too small; but a few were found that fitted 
fairly well, and one of these was inserted, after 
the gun, with infinite labor, had been tip-tilted 
to receive it, and then blocked back again in 
place. 

Sighting it carefully along the trunk of the 
prostrate pine, at a tree standing on the opposite 
bank, Wilfred was about to touch off the pow- 
der in the vent, when Philip stayed his hand. 

“No ! That foolish. Noise make enemy come 
here. Keep it so, till enemy come.” 

Philip’s warriors w r ere greatly disappointed at 
his veto, for they had promised themselves great 
enjoyment watching the splinters fly from the 
tree-trunk; but when their chief explained briefly 
his reasons, they sullenly acquiesced. They did 
not wish to attract attention to this, their last, 
retreat near Pokanoket, any more than did 
Philip himself. But there was one disappointed 
one in the party, and that one was Wilfred, who, 
for the very reason that the others had for not 
firing off the piece, desired to discharge it. Such 
a loud report, he had argued to himself, might 
attract the attention of his friends and provoke 


WAR PARTIES SCOUTING THE COUNTRY. 219 

a reconnoissance; hence his willingness to teach 
the Indians how to load and fire the cannon. 

While Metacomet may have suspected his mo- 
tive, he gave no sign of having done so, but care- 
fully watched Wilfred cover the vent with birch 
bark, to guard the powder against the damp, 
and then gave the order to march across the 
bridge. 

This diversion, while it had occupied much 
time, had put all the warriors in good spirits, 
and the willingness with which Wilfred had 
shown them how to load and fire the cannon 
gave him a high place in their esteem. So it 
was with no concern as to the propriety of leav- 
ing the “ island ” in his care, and even trusting 
him implicitly, that Philip and his men filed 
over the fallen pine tree and waved a farewell 
from the opposite bank of the chasm. 

Wilfred held up Pometacom to view, so long 
as his father was in sight, and then marched 
with him on his shoulder to the wigwam. There 
he found the squaw and the comely maiden at 
work around the fire-place, as unconcerned as 
if the parting with Philip had not been for a 
longer journey than to Patuxnet and back. But 
Indian character is deceiving, for beneath the 


220 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


apparently calm and placid exterior of her 
comely face, Philip’s squaw concealed her real 
feelings, as behind a mask. She had wept bitter 
tears, that very morning, over the prospective 
absence of her lord, and the dangers she appre- 
hended would attend his course; but no one saw 
them, least of all her dreaded lord and master. 

We will now leave for a while the lonely wig- 
wam on the “ island ” and follow the fortunes 
of King Philip. He had made a shorter stay with 
his wife and son than he intended, owing to the 
alarming tidings brought him from the seat of 
war. His sagamores had effected the retreat 
from the great swamp; but, owing to the pres- 
sure upon their flanks by the English soldiery, 
after they had reached the open country, they 
were compelled to leave behind more than a hun- 
dred women and children, who were taken pris- 
oners and afterward sold into slavery. 

By striking across country, Philip intercepted 
his fleeing warriors and joined them just in time 
to prevent a disastrous rout. He found them 
encompassed, not only by the Plymouth and 
Massachusetts troops, but also by bands of Mo- 
higans, — the very same whom he had hoped to 
persuade to join him against the settlers. He 


WAR PARTIES SCOUTING THE COUNTRY. 221 

experienced a momentary dampening of his ardor 
and enthusiasm at this discovery; but all the 
more, when he had reflected on the matter, 
his savage spirit of resistance rose to the oc- 
casion. 

Dashing into the midst of the throng of Warn* 
panoags, who had been caught while crossing a 
stretch of open country where there was no 
friendly forest shelter, he raised his war-cry, 
thus proclaiming his arrival. Instantly there 
was a change in the order of fighting, and instead 
of the desultory skirmishing that was going on 
when he reached the scene, a plan was soon de- 
veloped that put the enemy to confusion. 

Rallying around their great chief, the saga- 
mores and their bands formed the nucleus for a 
compact body of warriors, against which the sol- 
diers and their Indian allies charged in vain. 
Again and again, they sought to break that 
phalanx of battling warriors, which, at first solid 
as the trunk of an oak tree, gradually swung 
around until it completely enclosed their women 
and children — such as had not been left behind 
— and held them safely there, within a hollow 
square, which the soldiers could not force, try; 
as much as they would to do so. 


222 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


There were at least two gallant captains on 
the English side, Henchman and Mosely, who 
should have been able to outwit the enemy and 
beat King Philip at his own tactics. Henchman 
w r as not an Indian fighter, but he had seen long 
service for a young man, while Mosely had been 
engaged in a field where scenes of blood were not 
wanting to harden him to the commission of any 
crime. He was, in fact, an old buccaneer, and 
had been for years in the West Indies, living at 
that pirates’ haunt, the island of Tortuga, on 
the coast of Haiti. 

He had been with such pirates of ill-repute as 
Lollonois and Mansveldt, Morgan and others, 
and with them had sacked the cities of the 
Spanish Main. He had seen whole communities 
put to the sw 7 ord, innocent children hanged and 
quartered, and cut down in cold blood, merely 
for the lust of gold. For, the buccaneers of the 
Spanish Main fought, not for glory or for fame, 
but merely for gold and gain. So this man was 
not likely to be over-nice in his treatment of the 
Indians, and was even more cruel and blood- 
thirsty than the savages themselves. He cut 
down the women and children without mercy, 
and whenever a warrior was taken captive, if he 


WAR PARTIES SCOUTING THE COUNTRY. 223 

were cognizant of the fact, he would claim the 
privilege of cutting off his head. 

One of these warriors, an old sagamore named 
Cornelius, was taken in this fight, and handed 
at once over to Mosely for punishment. Without 
giving the poor old chief time to say a word, he 
raised his big broadsword and brought it down 
as if to cut oft his head. The old man was kneel- 
ing on the ground, and putting up his arm to 
ward off the blow, his hand was cut clean off at 
the stroke. 

“ It’s all right,” shouted the excited bucca- 
neer, “ he’ll look a little better that way, after 
his head’s cut off, and with another swoop he be- 
headed the Indian on the spot. Philip came up 
just in time to witness the death of his favorite 
sagamore, and, despite the surrounding files of 
soldiery, he dashed in to avenge the act upon 
the head of the buccaneer. 

It happened that Mosely, through his long 
practice in the Indies, was the most expert 
swordsman in the army, and wheeling about just 
in time to meet his antagonist, he aimed a blow 
that would surely have cleft the sachem’s head, 
had he not dodged to one side at the right mo- 
ment, Philip then sent home his own blow, with 


224 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


a long and heavy spear he always carried when 
in conflict, and pinned his adversary through 
his tunic to the ground. There he held him, the 
while striving to get out his tomahawk and brain 
him on the spot; but some of the soldiers crowd- 
ing upon him, watching for chance to shoot, he 
was forced back and away from his enemy, by 
the very press of the throng. 

When it was known that the gigantic Indian 
who had almost ended the life of the buccaneer 
was none other than King Philip, the throng gave 
way as if by magic, and the haughty sachem 
strode through the files of wondering men un- 
harmed. 

He would fain have gone back to have it out 
with the prostrate buccaneer, for his blood was 
up and he feared no hundred, nor thousand men, 
even, that could be brought against him. But, 
even in his heat of passion, casting his eye over 
the field, and seeing that the forces he engaged 
were overwhelming, he at once proceeded to or- 
ganize a retreat which, at this distant day, even, 
is regarded as most masterly. 

He extricated his men from their desperate 
position, and sending out some of his sagamores 
to lead the van, took the post of danger at the 


WAR PARTIES SCOUTING THE COUNTRY. 225 

rear, and faced the foe until his little army was 
safe within the forest. Then the soldiers pursued 
their customary tactics, and, the forest being of 
limited extent, endeavored to surround it. While 
they were doing this, or soon after they had per- 
fected their plans and planted their outposts, 
Metacomet, when night came on, stole through 
their pickets, and by next dawn was well on his 
way into the heart of the Nipmuck country. 

The next intelligence the commanders of the 
settlers’ army had, Philip was ravaging towns 
within a day’s journey of Boston, the capital of 
Massachusetts, which, evidently, he intended also 
to take and plunder, as soon as his allies should 
join him in the uprising. 

As Captain Mosely was pursuing his way to 
Boston, thinking he had indeed driven Philip 
back to his lair, where he could be easily sur- 
rounded by the Plymouth men, there came news 
that Quabaog, or Brookfield, was invested. On 
the outskirts of the town a man and his wife 
were murdered in open daylight, — and on the 
Sabbath day, at that, while a lad tending sheep 
in a field was fired at and barely escaped with his 
life. The Indian who fired at the shepherd lad 
“ wore a sign as if he were a friend,” by which 
15 


226 IN KING PHILIP’S AVAR. 

it was known that he was one of the so-called 
“ praying Indians,” who were supposed to be 
completely civilized and were settled near Boston 
in the town of Natick. 

Indian Sassamon, whose murder precipitated 
the war, was once a “ praying Indian,” but be- 
came afterward King Philip’s secretary, and was 
killed by his orders, because suspected of betray- 
ing his plans to the English. The wily Philip 
had, somehow, overcome the prejudices of the 
praying Indians, by working on their fears and 
superstitions, and caused them to come over to 
him, almost in a body. This he had accomplished 
while supposed to be concealed in the swamp 
surrounded by his enemies. He slept little, 
neither scarcely ate twice in any one place, dur- 
ing that first summer, after once started on the 
whirlwind campaign that embroiled all the 
eastern colonies in bloody war. 

The terror of the English was great, indeed, 
when they discovered the defection of their 
trusted “ praying Indians,” and it was increased, 
if possible, when they reflected that these people 
were not only well armed, with muskets furnished 
by the colonists themselves, but were as well 
trained as their own militia. It was a skillful 


WAR PARTIES SCOUTING THE COUNTRY. 227 

stroke, this that Philip made, — one that requited 
him somewhat for the loss of the Mohigans, upon 
whom he had depended for assistance at this very 
juncture. But the Nipmucks, for a time, held 
true to him, and within the confines of their ter- 
ritory were such towns of importance as Brook- 
field and Mendham, which he soon assailed with 
a large force of warriors. 

Well knew Metacomet, then, that his action in 
penetrating the very heart of the enemies’ coun- 
try would draw out the flower of their army; so 
he resolved to act quickly, to ravage the out- 
skirts of towns, burn the houses, gather up the 
horses and cattle, — in fact, lay waste the land, 
even as the settlers had wasted his own estate at 
Pokanoket. 

He tarried at Mendham merely long enough 
to kill a few of the settlers in the fields and burn 
the more exposed of the houses; but Brookfield, 
being a larger and more important place, tempted 
him to stay for its complete destruction. It was 
not far from the chief town of the Nipmucks, 
who, being on the verge of a treaty with the Eng- 
lish, Philip wished to compromise them, so that 
they could not do other than join with him for 
good and all. They had received him into their 


228 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


territory, not daring to oppose him ; but they also 
feared the English, whose prestige was great 
in that region. 

“ Thus it happened that, while Captains 
Wheeler and Hutchinson, commanders of troops 
sent out from Boston to oppose Philip, and treat 
with the Nipmucks, were riding with two chiefs 
of the latter, one morning, they fell into an am- 
buscade cleverly planned by Philip — “ an am- 
bush of two or three hundred Indians, laid in 
such a narrow passage, between a steep hill on 
the one hand, and a hideous swamp on the other, 
that it was scarce possible for any of them to 
escape, many being killed, and others mortally 
wounded, whereof Captain Hutchinson was one. 
The troop was thrown into confusion, and those 
left alive at once retreated upon Brookfield, 
which place they would never have reached alive 
— not a single soul of them — had it not been for 
an Indian, who led them through a by-path in 
the woods, the main road being alive and swarm- 
ing with King Philip’s men.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 


king Philip’s whirlwind campaign. 

Imagine the terror and confusion of Brook- 
field’s citizens, as the defeated troops came pour- 
ing in. There was scant room for them, in the 
great garrison-house; but into it all were gath- 
ered, and they had hardly closed the doors when 
the Indians took possession of the town. They at 
once burned all the outlying dwellings’, save a 
few in which they placed sentinels to watch for 
the expected army from Boston. Then, for two 
days, the wretched prisoners in the garrison- 
house experienced the horrors of a veritable 
pandemonium. Hundreds of howling savages 
gathered around the little fortress and exerted 
themselves to destroy it, “ verily like wolves, 
yelping and gaping for their prey.” 

King Philip felt sure of capturing the garri- 
son, at first; but as the hours wore away and it 
229 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


230 

still held out, he resolved to set it on fire. This 
fiendish scheme was almost accomplished, for, 
while many of his warriors surrounded the house 
and let loose a flood of bullets and burning ar- 
rows, others pushed up a cart filled with hay, 
hemp, and other combustibles, which they set on 
fire as soon as it was against the walls. By 
means of long poles with fire-brands and rags 
dipped in burning brimstone at their ends, they 
repeatedly set the cart-load of combustibles afire, 
only to have it extinguished by showers of 
rain. 

The seventy terror-stricken people within the 
w r alls saw in this the hand of Providence, and on 
their bended knees gave thanks to God for His 
mercies, supplicating, also, a continuance of di- 
vine protection. Their prayers’, it would seem, 
were answered, for after two terrible days and 
nights, passed in momentary expectation of tor- 
ture and death, the beleaguered citizens and sol- 
diers were relieved by the sound of musketry-fire 
at a distance. 

The time was then about an hour after dark, 
and the camp-fires of the savages were already 
lighted, in anticipation of welcoming amongst 
them the distressed garrison, for whom they were 


KING PHILIP’S WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN. 231 

preparing the ordeal of burning at the stake. 
For, though King Philip might have wished to 
spare his foes the tortures of a lingering death at 
the stake, his warriors were now beyond control, 
their evil natures wrought up to a pitch of ex- 
citement that made of them veritable fiends. 
They had been indulging in a protracted war- 
dance, which was being kept up after dark, right 
in sight of the afflicted prisoners in the garrison- 
house. 

A few hours more, they knew, would probably 
deliver the white people into their hands, when 
suddenly the sound of a musket-shot broke upon 
the air, and then another, followed by a desultory 
volley, and the huzzas of approaching soldiers. 
Never had succor more opportunely appeared, 
than when those ninety-two dragoons under 
Major Willard dashed into the field in front of 
the garrison-house and drew their foaming horses 
to their haunches. 

With his accustomed caution, Philip had 
posted sentinels along the roads in both direc- 
tions, east and west; but these had been negli- 
gent, probably having abandoned their posts and 
drawn in toward the house filled with prospec- 
tive victims for their contemplated massacre. 


230 IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 

still held out, he resolved to set it on fire. This 
fiendish scheme was almost accomplished, for, 
while many of his warriors surrounded the house 
and let loose a flood of bullets and burning ar- 
rows, others pushed up a cart filled with hay, 
hemp, and other combustibles, which they set on 
fire as soon as it was against the walls. By 
means of long poles with fire-brands and rags 
dipped in burning brimstone at their ends, they 
repeatedly set the cart-load of combustibles afire, 
only to have it extinguished by showers of 
rain. 

The seventy terror-stricken people within the 
walls saw in this the hand of Providence, and on 
their bended knees gave thanks to God for His 
mercies, supplicating, also, a continuance of di- 
vine protection. Their prayers, it would seem, 
were answered, for after two terrible days and 
nights, passed in momentary expectatign of tor- 
ture and death, the beleaguered citizens and sol- 
diers were relieved by the sound of musketry-fire 
at a distance. 

The time was then about an hour after dark, 
and the camp-fires of the savages were already 
lighted, in anticipation of welcoming amongst 
them the distressed garrison, for whom they were 


KING PHILIP’S WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN. 231 

preparing the ordeal of burning at the stake. 
For, though King Philip might have wished to 
spare his foes the tortures of a lingering death at 
the stake, his warriors were now beyond control, 
their evil natures wrought up to a pitch of ex- 
citement that made of them veritable fiends. 
They had been indulging in a protracted war- 
dance, which was being kept up after dark, right 
in sight of the afflicted prisoners in the garrison- 
house. 

A few hours more, they knew, would probably 
deliver the white people into their hands, when 
suddenly the sound of a musket-shot broke upon 
the air, and then another, followed by a desultory 
volley, and the huzzas of approaching soldiers. 
Never had succor more opportunely appeared, 
than when those ninety-two dragoons under 
Major Willard dashed into the field in front of 
the garrison-house and drew their foaming horses 
to their haunches. 

With his accustomed caution, Philip had 
posted sentinels along the roads in both direc- 
tions, east and west; but these had been negli- 
gent, probably having abandoned their posts and 
drawn in toward the house filled with prospec- 
tive victims for their contemplated massacre. 


232 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


Galloping through the Indian camp, saluting the 
savages with volleys from their carbines, the dra- 
goons formed a cordon around the garrison- 
house, and made such a formidable appearance 
that the savages scampered for the woods, de- 
spite all Metacomet could do in the way of 
speech and example to make them take a stand. 

Some of the troopers succeeded in getting in- 
side the house, but their horses, left behind, were 
ruthlessly slaughtered, as were all the sheep and 
cattle in the vicinity. Seeing that his men were 
demoralized, Metacomet set fire to all the remain- 
ing houses of the town, killed every living thing 
that could offer no defence, and made the best of 
his position by ordering a retreat. About a hun- 
dred had been killed, on each side, and perhaps 
more Indians than white people; but the former 
were ten times as numerous as the latter, and 
cared little for their losses, so they could in the 
end prevail. 

Within the forest, Philip’s men regained their 
courage and after he had harangued them hotly, 
demanded to be led again to the attack. But the 
wily savage knew that the time had gone by to 
commit further assaults upon the towns and vil- 
lages in that region, now that the soldiers were 


KING PHILIP’S WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN. 233 

pouring in from every quarter. He still believed 
himself capable of assaulting and capturing the 
larger centers of population; but first he would 
draw the troops further from their bases of sup- 
plies, and then return and complete the work of 
destruction. 

“ These Nipmucks will not help us,” declared 
the chief, when he had assembled his sagamores 
together. “ Their hearts are soft, their legs trem- 
ble with fear of the English. Neither can we rely 
upon the praying Indians, whom it is sufficient 
that we have compromised, as also the Nipmucks 
— for the English will not dare send their best 
soldiers after us, because of this fire we have set 
in our rear. We will now make a dash for the 
valley of the great river, and ravage the country 
between Deerfield and Squakeag, where the set- 
tlers are scattered, but the fields are many and 
ripe with maize and grain. 

The sagamores gave assent, and that very 
night was the march begun, through the forests 
westward to the valley of the Connecticut river. 
So expeditious were they, so cruelly were the hap- 
less women and children forced along with the 
warriors, that many fell dead on the march, and 
others were so exhausted when they reached the 


234 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


vicinity of Deerfield, that they were left behind in 
the woods, near the great hill now known as the 
Sugarloaf, from the top of which opens out a 
beautiful view of the valley. 

For a while, the English were puzzled as to 
Philip’s whereabouts; but soon there came re- 
ports from the Connecticut, dire tidings from the 
Indians about Hatfield and Hadley, who had at 
first professed friendship for the settlers; but 
latterly had been gathering weapons of war and 
hiding them in the woods. They had accom- 
panied the soldiers as scouts, in several expedi- 
tions; but the Mohigans, who were really friendly 
to the white people, warned them of the Hadley 
Indians. They had noticed, they said, that when- 
ever the enemy was approached, the Hadley In- 
dians sent up a shout, as if to put them on their 
guard. Seeing themselves suspected, these Had- 
leys suddenly decamped, one night, and as Philip 
and his band reached the river, after their forced 
march from Brookfield, they joined themselves to 
the sachem’s company. 

Once in the beautiful Connecticut valley, 
Philip struck the settlers several swift and ter- 
rible blows, beginning at Hatfield, in the bend of 
the river, and extending his depredations as far 


KING PHILIP’S WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN. 235 

north as Squakeag, or Northfield. No white per- 
son dared go into a field unarmed ; or even at all, 
in fact, so numerous and watchful were the 
prowling savages. None of the engagements were 
much more than skirmishes, in which ten or 
twenty at a time on each side were slain; but 
Philip was planning for the striking of a blow 
that should be felt throughout the colony. His 
favorite resort when in the valley of the Con- 
necticut was the steep hill in what is now South 
Deerfield, known as Sugarloaf, from its almost 
conical shape. Here, to-day, is still pointed out 
a hollow in the rock at its apex where, it is said, 
King Philip used to sit for hours at a time and 
scheme the settlers’ downfall. 

The view from this point is not only very 
beautiful, but also extensive, taking in a great 
portion of the valley, including several settle- 
ments upon which, at that time, Philip had evil 
designs. With his keen, almost telescopic eye, 
Philip ranged over the prospect before him, not- 
ing the movements 1 of the white people and direct- 
ing the operations of his warriors by means of 
messengers, lithe young Indians, who could run 
like the wind, always in waiting by his side. 
Some were coming or going all the time, bearing 


236 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


orders to the sagamores for their further fight- 
ing, while Philip held aloof among the clouds. 

The first fight of importance was with Captain 
Beers and his company of thirty-six men, who 
were sent to Northfield with supplies for the little 
garrison there. He and his band were set upon 
by several hundred Indians, as they were passing 
through a swamp, and twenty of them killed. 
More than that number of Indians were slain, 
for these soldiers fought valiently, back to back, 
and until their ammunition was exhausted. Less 
than sixteen of this band escaped, who fled back 
to Hadley, whence another force, this time of one 
hundred men, was sent to Squakeag, for the gar- 
rison. This time, they did not tarry longer than 
was necessary to fetch away the residue of the 
garrison, as the post was considered too isolated 
to hold by a mere handful of men in the midst of 
forests swarming with savages. 

Every time he attacked the settlers, now, 
Philip brought into the field an overwhelming 
force, having reasoned out this scheme of action 
to his satisfaction, and nearly every band of white 
people that he assailed was almost destroyed. 
So severe was the punishment he inflicted upon 
the English that they felt compelled to abandon 


KING PHILIPS WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN. 237 

all settlements except a few, and concentrate 
people and provisions within strong garrison- 
houses’. One of these points thus fortified and 
held, was Hadley, which was considered strategic- 
ally strong, and so orders were issued to retreat 
from Deerfield and make a stand in the former 
place. One September day, the gallant Captain 
Lothrop and a company of nearly one hundred 
men were sent to Deerfield for the purpose of 
gathering and husking the corn in the abandoned 
fields’, estimated at about three thousand bushels, 
and taking it to Hadley, where it would be secure 
from the ravages of the enemy. 

King Philip had expected some such move as 
this, and from his eyrie on the peak of Sugarloaf 
hill he had watched every movement of the de- 
voted band. Like a hawk, or an eagle, sure of its 
prey, he hovered in mid-air, as it were, while he 
noted every move and planned every detail of a 
bloodier massacre than any that had yet been per- 
petrated. By his orders all the Indians kept 
within the woods, and it appeared to Captain 
Lothrop that they must have left that region and 
gone elsewhere. The Captain kept his men in 
hand, however, and they accomplished the object 
of their foray, which was the securing of the 


240 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


less than nine hundred Indians, so that, what- 
ever form of fighting occurred, the white soldiers 
were foredoomed to fall. 

Then was Philip avenged for whatever wrong 
he had suffered at the white man’s hands, for he 
and his men slew, that day, not less than ninety 
of that band, which was a hundred strong at the 
beginning of the fight! The road, the swamp, 
and the adjacent fields were strewn with the 
mangled remains of Captain Lothrop’s company, 
which, composed of sturdy young men from the 
eastern part of the State, was known as the 
“ flower of Essex county.” 

This company being so far distant, more than 
a hundred miles, from the county in which it was 
raised, suggests the widespread nature of this 
conflict, waged by King Philip for more than a 
year, and which carried sorrow and death to 
thousands of homes. 

They sold their lives dearly, those choice spirits 
culled from the best families of Essex, and it is 
known that, surprised as they were by the am- 
bushed Indians’, they killed as many of the enemy 
as they themselves numbered, all told. The soil 
of swamp and field was ensanguined with human 
gore, and the waters of the little stream that 


KING PHILIP’S WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN. 241 

crossed the road so deeply tinged that it has ever 
since been known as “ Bloody Brook ! ” 

Here, as in other places, Metacomet’s presence 
was felt more than seen, for, while he directed the 
fight, he took no active part in the actual assault. 
After all was over, after the wounded had been 
despatched by the pitiless fiends, and the slain 
deprived of their scalps, Philip, it is said, stalked 
gloomily about the battlefield, gloating over the 
slaughter he had caused. 

“ Now will the English hear me? ” he mut- 
tered. “ Now will they double their reward for 
my head? Not a few coats, or shillings, will be 
offered for my head; but enough to ransom a 
greater king than Philip Pokanoket! 

“ So will I treat them all. Now they will know 
my name, through all the length and breadth of 
the land ! This makes it so I never can be taken 
alive, but must die a-fighting!” 

Hard upon his heels, as he withdrew his men 
from the battle-ground of Bloody Brook, was 
Philip’s personal enemy, Captain Mosely, the old 
buccaneer having been sent out to succor Lothrop 
when too late. He reached the scene of blood 
only in time to drive off the Indian stragglers 
who were plundering the slain, and to bury the 
16 


24:2 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


dead. It entered Philip’s mind to call back his 
warriors and “have it out” with Mosely; but 
they were now laden with plunder, which they 
were carrying off to their dens in the forest, and 
were, also, so content with their great victory 
that they cared not to engage the enemy a second 
time in the same place. The fiery Mosely hung 
upon their flanks a while, pursuing them after a 
fashion for seven miles or more, but without 
bringing them to a standstill. 

Finally, he gave it up, and Philip, organizing 
his forces anew, started direct for Springfield, 
where he nearly succeeded in surprising the 
strong garrison there, and did succeed in detach- 
ing the Springfield Indians, who flocked to fight 
beneath his banner. 

Philip’s prestige was now so great that all the 
Indians in the valley came to fight with him, and 
his fame even extended to the Mohawks and their 
allies, who doubtless would have joined him if 
he had approached them at that time. But, 
though still having in mind the winning over of 
the other Indians, Philip was too intent upon 
pillage and massacre to take the time for a visit. 
He had now a thousand warriors in hand, which 
number was as great as he could well take care 


KING PHILIP’S WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN. 243 

of and liurl with rapidity and precision against 
the scattered settlements. 

He would first carry terror to the hearts of the 
settlers, he said, by appearing in places wide 
apart and where least expected, burning, murder- 
ing, destroying. Then he would send out the call 
for a general uprising, and at the head of ten 
thousand warriors march upon the capitals of the 
colonies, where he would dictate terms to his 
hated enemies. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


THE MASSACRE AT NARRAGANSET FORT. 

Daring and resolute as the great sachem of the 
Wampanoags had proved himself to be, yet it is 
known that at the end of the first summer’s cam- 
paign he was reduced to great straits for the 
maintenance of his horde of Indian warriors. 
They could subsist upon the country, to be sure, 
whether in their own region or the recently- 
ravaged fields of the enemy; but those Indians 
who had been induced by Philip to join him 
against the white people, were now clamorous for 
their rewards. 

During the Autumn of 1675, in fact, King 
Philip experienced a crisis — it may be termed a 
monetary crisis — which he tided over in a very 
ingenious manner. Previous to the breaking out 
of hostilities he had been accounted a very 
wealthy person for an Indian, as he owned not 
244 


THE MASSACRE AT NARRAGANSET FORT. 245 

only a vast acreage of land, but a great store of 
wampum, the Indian money. So plentifully sup- 
plied was he with this “ wampumpeag,” or wam- 
pum money, that he had several coats, or robes, 
completely covered with it. One of the most pro- 
fusely ornamented of his coats, which was in fact 
his royal robe of state, he was wont to wrap him- 
self in when “ holding forth ” from the throne, 
on all great occasions. He may be said, in 
truth, to have borne his bank upon his shoulders, 
for, besides so lavishly ornamenting his garments 
with wampum, he also carried quantities of it in 
his numerous pockets. 

So it was that when the time arrived when, in 
his opinion, it was best to approach the sachems 
of rival tribes about forming a league offensive 
and defensive, against the colonists, he bethought 
himself of his many garments decorated with 
wampumpeag. He sent for them by swift mes- 
sengers (for they were stored away in the great 
w r igwam on the forest “ island ”) and when they 
arrived, after calling around him his trusted sag- 
amores, he ordered the various coats cut into 
many pieces, which he promptly distributed 
among the sachems of the tribes he desired to 
league with him. 


246 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


The wampum-covered cloth was sent out by 
trusty men, the pick of his tribe, north, south, 
east and west, with this message : “ Metacomet, 
King of the Wampanoags, desires the assistance 
of your tribe against the encroaching white men, 
who have come from across the sea expressly to 
devour us, and are determined upon our ex- 
termination. They have been severely punished: 
their women and children, their old men and their 
soldiers, killed by hundreds; their towns and 
houses burned. But now the season of fighting 
draws near its ending, and we go into winter- 
quarters. Join with me, Metacomet of the Wam- 
panoags, next season, at the corn-planting time, 
in the first of the moon, and together we will 
drive the white men into the sea ! Come and fail 
not. The plunder will be vast, the slaughter 
great ! ” 

Metacom, son of Massasoit, King of the Wam- 
panoags.” 

“ All the savages hanging together like serpent 
eggs,” as the old saying hath it, there was little 
doubt that Philip would, sooner or later, accom- 
plish his desires. There was a great stir amongst 
the surrounding tribes, on all sides visible tokens 
of disquiet, and preparations for a great confed- 


THE MASSACRE AT NARRAGANSET FORT. 247 

eration of the tribes. Meanwhile, it behooved 
the settlers to be stirring with greater alacrity 
than hitherto, and strike a blow that should 
counteract his own dreadful doings; for by his 
successes, especially in the valley of the Connec- 
ticut, all the Indians were emboldened and en- 
couraged. 

That “ nothing succeeds like success ” was as 
true then, in the seventeenth century, as it is to- 
day, and seeing that King Philip was more than 
holding his own against the colonials, and that, 
too, without having received outside aid to any 
great extent, his Indian neighbors nearest to 
Pokanoket first wavered, then decided in his 
favor, and went over to his side. These were the 
Narragansets, who, not long before, had bound 
themselves by treaty not only to remain neutral, 
but to deliver up to the English settlers any of 
Philip’s subjects who should seek refuge amongst 
them. 

They had also agreed to deliver up Philip 
himself should he fall into their power, dead or 
alive (as we have seen) ; but the excuse now 
urged by the Narragansets for not abiding by 
the treaty with the settlers was that none of 
their sachems had signed it. In proof of this we 


248 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


have only to peruse the original document, which 
bears the signatures, or “ marks,” not of Can- 
onicus, Ninigret, Pomham, Matatoag, Quiapen, 
and Quananshit, the six great sachems of the 
tribe; but only of Tawageson, Tayston, Wampsh, 
and Agamoug, who at best were only sagamores 
or sub-chiefs. 

The English call them the “ attorneys ” of the 
Narraganset sachems; but the sachems retorted 
that they had no attorneys, nor wanted any, hav- 
ing delegated their authority to nobody what- 
ever. They, in fact, were disgruntled at this evi- 
dence of sharp practice on part of the colonials, 
and refused to abide by a treaty which was none 
of their making. More than this, they made it 
the excuse for resorting to hostilities which that 
very “ treaty ” was intended to prevent. Thus 
did the plans of the English come to naught, and 
serve only to increase the evil which they sought 
to correct. 

“As for the late league made, or rather re- 
newed, with the Narragansets, it was sufficiently 
evident and known that they had all along, from 
the first day it was confirmed, broken every 
article of it, especially in not delivering up the 
enemies, which had sheltered themselves with 


THE MASSACRE AT NARRAGANSET FORT. 249 

them all this while, which, though they did not 
positively deny, yet did nothing but find excuses, 
to defer it one week after another, till at last they 
would be excused till the next spring, upon pre- 
tence that they could not before that time get 
them together. 

And besides the favoring of those that fled to 
them, and supplying the whole body of ye enemy 
with victuals, upon all occasions, it was likewise 
strongly suspected that in all the late proceed- 
ings of ye enemy, many of their young men were 
known to be actually in arms against us, many of 
whom were found either wounded amongst them 
in their wigwams, or elsewhere occasionally seen 
returning back, after exploits abroad, to be 
healed of their wounds at home. Also, some of 
our men’s guns, that were lost at Deerfield, were 
found in ye fort when it was fired. Therefore, 
all scruples as to the justness and necessity of 
ye war being removed, the only question was 
whether it were feasible and expedient in ye 
winter.” 

That it was finally considered both “ feasible 
and expedient,” is shown by the summons that 
went forth for the raising of an army, the largest 
yet gathered, consisting of a thousand men-at- 


250 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


arms, half that number from Massachusetts, and 
the remainder from Plymouth and Connecticut. 
Besides the thousand white soldiers, commanded 
by the Honorable Josiah Winslow, governor of 
the Plymouth colony, as commander-in-chief, 
there were numerous “ reformados,” or volun- 
teers among the praying Indians, who did very 
good service. In fact, it was owing to a reform- 
ado Indian, one Peter, supposed to have been the 
husband of the Squaw Sachem of Patuxet, that 
the Narraganset retreat, the fort in a vast swamp, 
was discovered. 

Towards mid-afternoon, one of the coldest days 
in December, 1675, the combined armies under 
General Winslow arrived at the edge of the big 
swamp. The hardy settlers had marched for 
several days, camping at night in the snow, suf- 
fering extremely from the terrible cold of mid- 
winter, with little to eat, insufficiently pro- 
vided with blankets for protection from the cold, 
and without means or opportunity to make a 
fire. As they were marching through the coun- 
try of the Squaw Sachem of the Narragansets, 
called the old Snake Queen, they were joined by 
Peter Nunnuit, the renegado Indian, who, for rea- 
sons of his own, offered to lead them to the fort. 


THE MASSACRE AT NARRAGANSET FORT. 251 

Having reached the borders of the swamp, the 
Indian told them they would soon find Indians 
enough to satisfy them, and had hardly said this 
ere some of the soldiers were picked off by Indian 
sharpshooters, falling down in the snow. Plung- 
ing desperately in, these hardy colonials charged 
upon the unseen enemy, who retreated into their 
fort, which, surrounded as it was by an almost 
impenetrable abatis of fallen trees with jagged 
branches pointing outward, could not be forced. 
It was upon raised land, forming a sort of “ is- 
land,” containing five or six acres, within the 
fastness of the swamp. 

There was but one entrance to this Indian fort, 
and that was to be gained only by first crossing 
a great tree over a creek. The water beneath was 
frozen, to be sure, and the ice covered with snow ; 
but all who attempted to gain the fort by this way 
were shot down by the hidden sharpshooters, who 
soon piled up a heap of slain settlers as high as 
a haystack. One after another, by dozens and by 
scores, the soldiers were slain, as they pressed 
forward, ignoring the commands of their cap- 
tains, every man for himself. In the end, nearly 
one hundred were killed, including six captains, 
the most valiant men of the colonies’, such as 


252 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


Gallop and Davenport, Gardiner, Johnson, Siely 
and Marshall. 

In the center of the army rode General Wins- 
low, unable to gain the front from the press of 
the throng ahead, and thus saved from being him- 
self numbered with the dead, that day. Among 
the reformado white men was our old friend, 
Captain Church, who, refusing the command of a 
Company, had hastily gathered together two- 
score spirits as brave and as experienced as him- 
self, and with them sought out another and safer 
entrance to the fort. 

They swung around the abatis, searching in 
the snow for a place weaker than the body of the 
work, and found it, too, in a great gap beneath 
another tree, where there was an open passage. 
It seemed so easy of access that the wary Church 
became at once suspicious. 

“ Hold, my men,” he shouted, “ methinks these 
red divils do not open a road for nothing! 
First fire a volley through it at whatever lies be- 
yond ! ” 

But his men did not hear him, or if they did 
were over-confident, and their negligence cost 
many of them their lives. For, though the pas- 
sage was open, its farther end was obstructed by 


THE MASSACRE AT NARRAGANSET FORT. 253 

a wigwam blockhouse masked by limbs and 
branches, from which poured forth a blasting, 
withering fire, sent out by the Indians concealed 
within. The scouts were soon joined by others, 
however, and with yells and cries of encourage- 
ment, they swept all obstructions aside and over- 
whelmed the blockhouse. 

The desperate Indians would not retreat nor 
surrender, so the wigwam was set on fire, and the 
flames spreading to the other huts, estimated at 
three or four hundred in number, soon the fort 
was filled with smoke, and it was difficult to tell 
friend from foe. 

While running around the wigwam, seeking a 
hole through which to poke his musket, and 
fire upon the inmates of the hut, Captain Church 
was three times shot ; but still fought on. Gain- 
ing the center of the great enclosure, he ran full- 
tilt upon gallant Captain Gardiner of Salem, 
who looked him in the face, but without speak- 
ing. Church called him by name, and receiving 
no response, raised his cap, when out poured a 
torrent of blood, and his friend settled to the 
ground and in a moment was dead. 

With captains so brave, small wonder is it 
that the privates fought so well, and great won- 


254 : 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


der it is that any Indians escaped at all. But 
they knew all the hiding-places, and when the 
white men had thought them subdued or exter- 
minated, again and again they would leap up 
and deliver withering fires of musketry into their 
faces. 

The wigwams were made of bark and branches, 
but were lined with tubs of corn, baskets of 
grain, and all sorts of provisions which the In- 
dians had gathered for their winter stores. All 
their seed-corn for next season’s planting was 
also there, so that when the flames swept over 
the wigwams, not only were nearly all their pres- 
ent provisions consumed, but, as well, their 
means of subsistence in the future. And, these 
tubs and baskets being ranged around the walls 
of the huts, made them almost bullet-proof, in- 
asmuch as several bodies of Indians, after it was 
thought the fight was over, managed to enter 
some of them and maintain a desperate battle 
with the invaders. 

At last, the fort was gained, the pandemo- 
nium of sounds decreased; but still raged the 
flames and still yet ascended clouds of smoke. 
Somewhere beneath that pall of smoke — as was 
afterwards ascertained — hundreds of fighting 


THE MASSACRE AT N ARR AGxlNSET FORT. 255 

men lay either dead or wounded. Within and 
without the fort, more than a thousand Indians 
had been killed, and probably more than half 
that number of women and children besides, 
burned to death or suffocated in the smoke ! Ter- 
rible, indeed, was the penalty paid by the Nar- 
ragansets for allying themselves with the Warn- 
panoags — for not delivering up to the colonists 
the refugees from that hunted tribe. At one fell 
blow, the Narraganset power was broken. In a 
single afternoon, between noon and night, their 
choicest warriors were slain, their proudest fam- 
ilies destroyed. 

The obstinacy of the colonials had won, de- 
spite the great obstacles in their way; but it was 
more by good fortune than their own sagacity, 
that they escaped destruction that ensuing night, 
for their subsequent proceedings were marked 
by lack of sense, stamped with the token of im- 
becility. Perhaps it was because all their great 
captains had been slain, or because the advice 
of the wise ones was not heeded, that they did not 
exert themselves to extinguish the fires within 
the fort and encamp there for the night. But, 
some of the petty officers seemed beside them- 
selves with fear, and one of the surgeons told 


256 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


Captain Church that if he advised such a course 
he would allow him to bleed to death, then and 
there. And the blood was welling from his 
w T ounds at the time — as he stood arguing and ex- 
postulating with the commander and his cow- 
ardly surgeons. 

So the fruits of their victory were allowed to 
slip into the hands of the Indians, and tons of 
provisions lost ; while the famished soldiers were 
almost perishing, on their scanty diet of a bis- 
cuit per man per day. Besides, there were the 
wounded, more than a hundred in number, with 
nearly as many slain. The intense cold was fast 
stiffening their wounds, yet orders were given 
to march out into the cold and darkness, the well 
ones bearing their dead and wounded comrades, 
staggering along through the deep snow, for six- 
teen weary miles, before a camp was made. 

The Indians', returning to their smoldering 
wigwams, finding there the charred remains of 
wives and children, of daughters’ and mothers, 
may well have rent the air with lamentations; 
but at least, they were permitted to enjoy what 
remained after the white soldiers had retreated, 
and regarded the affair as in a sense their own 
victory, inasmuch as they still continued to 


THE MASSACRE AT NARRAGANSET FORT. 257 

“ hold the fort.” Their spirits were subdued, but 
not yet broken; and the chief object of the set- 
tiers’ search, the great Wampanoag sachem, had 
escaped again, almost by a miracle. 

That was a terrible winter, especially for the 
Indians, who, frequently attacked by the colo- 
nials, were disposed in every direction. Still 
Philip swept the colonies like a whirlwind of 
flame, appearing here, there, everywhere, and al- 
ways unexpectedly; his men skulking up to the 
outskirts of towns and penetrating into the 
hearts of settlements, with musket and firebrand, 
carrying murder, massacre and desolation. The 
mere list of towns wholly or partially destroyed 
would be a long one, reaching from the valley of 
the Connecticut to that of the Merrimac. Some- 
times the Indians would be within a score of 
miles of Boston, and the alarm would go out to 
gather for its defence; again, Plymouth colony 
would be pounced upon, and the flame of war 
borne right against its battlements. 

While the Wampanoags suffered much, it ap- 
pears that their would-be allies, the Nipmucks 
and the Narragansets suffered more, until finally 
they were completely severed from their friends 
of other tribes and cut off from all communica- 
17 


258 


IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 


tion with the world outside their provinces. In 
sheer desperation, finally, Philip made a perilous 
journey to the Mohawk country, where he was 
received so badly that he barely escaped with his 
life. So enraged was he, in fact, that he killed 
several settlers on the borders of their territory, 
under such circumstances that it appeared to be 
the work of the Mohawks themselves. They and 
the Mohigans were so incensed that they joined 
with the colonials in their war against the Warn- 
panoags, and thus the circle around these de- 
voted people grew more and more restricted, 
until they found themselves with enemies on 
every side. Through it all, however, the majority 
of his people clung to Philip, following his for- 
tunes — or rather, his misfortunes — with a faith- 
fulness worthy of a noble race. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


THE LITTLE SAGAMORE’S WIGWAM. 

In the dragnet spread by the colonials were 
gathered up all sorts of Indian fish ; sachems and 
sagamores, squaw-chiefs and sub-chiefs; but 
never a glimpse got they of the great sachem, 
King Philip. He seemed to direct every fight, 
plan every burning and massacre; but kept him- 
self in the background; not so much from cow- 
ardice as from prudence. He seemed indeed 
ubiquitous; some of the settlers thought he might 
in the end prevail, since his schemes showed so 
much of cunning and of wisdom. He contrived 
to spread fear and trembling throughout the 
length and breadth of Massachusetts colony, and 
Plymouth, as well ; but all the time, steadily and 
persistently, the colonial authorities bent their 
energies to the great work of isolating him and 
his people from all other tribes. 

259 


260 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


Gradually, they drew the circle about him, 
slowly but surely they cut off his allies as well 
as his supplies, until in desperation he turned 
once more to the scenes of his first successful 
exploits in the vicinity of Pokanoket. There, at 
last, he met his death, within the territory that 
had descended to him from his ancestors, al- 
most in sight of the place of his birth. Through 
all these latter adventures of his he had been 
without his family, having left them (as we 
know) in charge of the young hero of this story, 
Wilfred Wilkins, who (as we shall shortly note) 
was faithful to the bitter end. 

If Philip still had a heart, it must have bled 
for his friends, such as the Narragansets, thou- 
sands of whom had been cut off at the fort in 
the swamp; the Nipmucks, hundreds of whom 
were killed or captured before the war came to 
an end; and even some of the Pequods, who 
stood by him until destruction overtook them. 
Among the sachems who died because of Philip’s 
deeds, and there were many, — not one expressed 
regret for his misdeeds nor lamented his fate. 
Matoonas, the Nipmuck sagamore, was hanged, 
and near the gibbet his head was stuck up on a 
pole. When he was brought before the court that 


THE LITTLE SAGAMORE’S WIGWAM. 261 

sentenced him, and asked what he had to say in 
his favor, he said he probably deserved death, 
for if he had followed the teachings rather than 
the practices of the praying Indians, he would not 
have met his fate in such a manner. Sagamore 
Sam of Quabaog had threatened to march upon 
Boston and burn it to the ground; yet was he, at 
last, led through Boston streets with a halter 
round his neck, “ with which he was hanged at 
the town’s end.” 

Most noted of them all was Canonchet, chief 
sachem of the Narragansets, who was captured 
by the Pequods and handed over to his enemies, 
the English. He boasted that he would not de- 
liver up a Wampanoag, “ nor the paring of a 
Wampanoag’s nail ; ” and when sentenced to die 
said : “ It is well, kill me now, before my heart 
gets soft, but mark, my killing will not end the 
war.” 

Soon after Canonchet was taken, King Philip 
himself had a narrow escape from capture, 
and lost his most beloved wife and son. “ Skin 
for skin,” says the old historian, “ all that a man 
hath will he give for his life; ” but Philip would 
doubtless rather have died than lost those treas- 
ures of his heart. With his wife and child in the 


262 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


hands of the enemy, most of his friends dead, 
himself a fugitive, he experienced the full meas- 
ure of misery (it might be thought) before the 
end came to his life and his schemes for ven- 
geance. 

To understand how this disaster came to him 
(and while both sides are preparing for mortal 
conflict) let us leave a while the chief actors in 
the great and bloody drama and revert to our 
young friend, who had been placed by Philip in 
charge of his home and belongings. 

During the occurrences narrated in the pre- 
vious chapters, Wilfred had been kept practically 
a prisoner on the “ island.” Not only was he 
closely watched, but he felt himself bound in 
honor not to attempt escape. He had not given 
his word, to be sure; but the obligations Philip 
had fastened upon him appealed so strongly to 
his sense of honor, that he felt constrained by 
them. 

Moreover, as the days, weeks and months went 
by, as summer lapsed into winter, and this in 
turn gave way to spring, he had really become 
attached to his charges, the sachem’s wife, sister 
and son. By degrees, as the war waged more 
fiercely, many Indian fugitives drifted toward 


THE LITTLE SAGAMORE’S WIGWAM. 263 

the wigwam on the “ island,” mostly women and 
children, who appealed to Wilfred for shelter 
and protection. In truth, Philip had made this 
his refuge of last resort, and while holding aloof 
himself, so that suspicion should not be directed 
toward it, had yet sent a great store of plunder 
thitherward, so that eventually a vast deposit 
was formed. “ Where the carcase is, there will 
the eagles gather,” the good and great Book says, 
and had Philip been better acquainted with its 
proverbs, as well as its precepts, he would have 
known better than to have sent thither such a 
quantity of plunder. For, first some of the Nip- 
muck Indians, then some of the Narragansets, 
then some of the white scouts, noted the trend of 
the parties bearing this plunder — always con- 
centering at one particular spot — and availed 
themselves of this knowledge (as might have been 
expected), to the eventual discomfiture of Philip 
and his friend. An expedition was formed by 
the Plymouth people to go in search of this re- 
pository, and at the head of it was the great 
Indian fighter, Captain Church. 

This was all unknown to Wilfred, however 
much he might have anticipated and dreaded the 
outcome of the mistaken move on Philip’s part. 


264 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


He devoted himself to succoring the fugitives, to 
keeping them employed, and to the welfare of his 
little household. With a laudable desire to pro- 
mote the cause of religion and good works by at 
least his own personal example, Wilfred strove 
to convert the wife and mother, as well as her 
sister, to his way of thinking. Through the 
comely maiden, who had a fair knowledge of 
English and was herself well disposed to the 
white people’s religion, the lad taught the gentle 
Weetamoe the principles of that faith which has 
sustained countless thousands on their heaven- 
ward march. 

He recognized in this wife of King Philip, who 
might in the event of his death, become the 
“ squaw sachem ” of the Wampanoags, a char- 
acter truly admirable and great. Handsome as 
to face and feature, she also possessed a gentle 
dignity which goes with all great natures. A 
typical queen, she was, though now without a 
throne, and with few people subject to her. She 
was devotedly attached to her son, little Pom- 
etacom, and recognizing the great value to him of 
such a friend and counsellor as the young white 
man, encouraged their intimacy to the utmost. 
It needed no urging on her part, however, for 


THE LITTLE SAGAMORE’S WIGWAM. 265 

Wilfred to take an interest in Pometacom, for 
the two became friends almost at sight. They 
could not speak each other’s language, and at 
first this was a drawback to their perfect ac- 
quaintance ; but the Queen’s sister acted as inter- 
preter, when needed, and soon they acquired a 
mutual speech that sufficed. 

Like his great father, Pometacom was dis- 
posed to silence, rather than much speech, being 
thoughtful, even pensive at times, his few years 
of existence having been passed amid scenes that 
made him observant and self-reliant, for one of 
his age. He had been carefully trained by Met- 
acomet to comport himself in accordance with 
his future expectations, as the ruler over a 
powerful tribe; but he had real dignity, without 
being at all headstrong or self-important. The 
true kingly dignity is born in one, and cannot be 
acquired; and this is true, even though so many 
kings have turned out fools and weaklings. 

The two boys, then, were constant companions, 
and regularly (as at meal times and after sup- 
per was over) in company with Queen Weetamoe 
and her sister. Slowly, but surely, Wilfred’s in- 
fluence was telling upon his companions, all of 
whom looked up to him for guidance, as being 


266 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


not only the stronger nature, but a representative 
of a higher civilization. Had Philip been able 
to divine how the youth would draw these mem- 
bers of his family from their devotion to a bar- 
baric life, to a yearning for something higher, 
and nobler, he might have hesitated before leav- 
ing them in his care. For, though the King rec- 
ognized the great qualities of the white people, 
yet he knew full well that when his own tribe 
adopted white people’s ways and entered into 
their thoughts, his influence would wane. 

But it was not from any desire to augment his 
own influence or power, that Wilfred exerted 
himself to divert his friends from their semi- 
savage mode of life, for he was entirely forgetful 
of self, only thinking of the great good that 
might eventuate. It was a slow process — but 
he thought that perhaps he might reach King 
Philip through his wife and child, and end the 
war by the combined influence of the three. Yet, 
all the while, Philip was doing his utmost to make 
it actually impossible for the white people ever 
to overlook his misdeeds. How many homes had 
he despoiled? How many families had his war- 
riors murdered, in that terrible war, which now 


THE LITTLE SAGAMORE’S WIGWAM. 267 

seemed as if but just begun, so extensive were 
its operations. 

Not many weeks had passed before little Pom- 
etacom bad crept into Wilfred’s heart, with his 
winning ways, his manly bearing and innocent 
wiles. The time soon came when Wilfred began 
to feel that he could not well live without the 
little fellow’s company, and wonder what his life 
would be if he should be taken away. And yet, 
the time was hastening on when he would lose, 
not only Pometacom, but his mother and her sis- 
ter. All unbeknown to him, the expedition or- 
ganized at Plymouth by the redoubtable Captain 
Church was nearing the place of his abode; and 
though it might be thought that he would have 
welcomed friends of his own race and complex- 
ion, yet, it must be confessed, his sympathies 
were divided. 

Unknown to him were the preparations being 
made for his capture and the enslavement of his 
friends; and this, perhaps, was well, for during 
the few weeks yet remaining he made the days of 
little Pometacom the happiest of his life. The 
time w r as coming shortly when he would be torn 
from the arms that had sheltered him from harm, 
and taken aboard a vessel bound for distant 


268 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


parts, there to be sold into slavery. Also his 
mother, Weetamoe, and the gentle girl who had 
naught but smiles and sweet words for all. She, 
too, was made a slave; and soon we will tell 
how it all came about. Unaware of the im- 
pending peril, Wilfred and Pometacom wandered 
at will through the forests of the “ island,” tell- 
ing each other the secrets they had learned from 
bird and beast; from the blue jay and the 
squirrel; from the woodpecker and the rabbit; 
even the shy wild deer had something for them 
in the way of teaching. 

From the thistle and the milkweed Wilfred 
made silvery balls of down, which Pometacom, 
with many a shout of happy laughter, set floating 
in the air. Trumpets and horns, he also made, 
from the stalks of pumpkin leaves; fiddles from 
corn-stalks and pipes from the cobs, in which 
he and Pometacom pretended to smoke dainty 
rolls of the sweet-fern. 

Wilfred had a jackknife, of course — for he was 
one of the real and original Yankee boys, — and 
with that he whittled out pop-guns from the elder 
sticks, whistles from willow and chestnut, and 
even bows and arrows. Of these last Pometa- 
com had a beautiful set, made by a warrior, at 


THE LITTLE SAGAMORE’S WIGWAM. 


269 


his father’s orders; but though bows and arrows 
were ornamented with feathers and porcupine 
quills, and gay with colors, red, yellow and green, 
yet he fancied most the rude weapons fashioned 
for him by his white friend. 

Most of all, however, he prized the beautiful 
doll that little Dorothy had sent her brother by 
the messenger, and which he was allowed to play 
with to his heart’s content. For hours together, 
he would sit beneath the great oak, in pleasant 
weather, and in a corner of the wigwam when 
in-doors, caressing and talking in Wampanoag 
to that pretty plaything of his white friend’s 
sister. Wilfred tried to tell him of its much be- 
loved mistress; how dear she was to him, how 
sweet she was, and Pometacom felt that he knew 
and loved her already, without ever having seen 
her. 

“ When I get big chief,” he frequently said to 
his friend, “ I make little sister beautiful present. 
If my father have any land left, after he done 
fighting, I give her many, many acres for her 
farm, so she be very rich, and perhaps we all live 
near each other, and my people learn white 
people’s ways and be good all, all the time to- 
gether.” 


1 


270 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


“ I hope so, Pometacom,” Wilfred would reply, 
while his brow clouded at the thought of what 
the future really held for them — with Philip 
either dead or a fugitive, a price set on his head, 
and perhaps his wife and boy proscribed, driven 
to the woods as outcasts. 

“ And I make you great sagamore,” the boy 
would continue. “And all you tell me, that I 
do, and that my people do. We stop fighting, 
we worship white man’s God, and be so good 
your peoples never, never want to kill us. I 
want to be another great sachem ; real king, like 
my grandfather, Massasoit, who for many years 
the white man’s friend.” 

“ You could not do better,” Wilfred told him. 
“ For Massasoit will always live in history as the 
first great friend of my people. He had lived 
many years the wild life of a rude Indian, not 
knowing any better life; but only after he be- 
came the white men’s friend, did he rise to 
that eminence that his memory will always 
live!” 

“Yes,” assented Pometacom (after he had 
gained the sense of this assertion) “but, if my 
grandfather always friend of your people, why 
not my father? He want kill them, tell me never 



As Wilfred and Pometacom were going through the wood, a 
maiden sought them out, panting from the fatigue of running. 
Page 271. — /» King Philip's War . 






. 


































































THE LITTLE SAGAMORE’S WIGWAM. 271 

to like nor make treaty with them, for they all 
bad and want only Indian’s land.” 

“ That is not so,” answered Wilfred ; “ but, sad 
to say, there are bad white men, as well as bad 
red men; and, I know not, but somehow they 
have set us all by the ears. Your people have 
more land than they can use; my people take it 
and make it fruitful, where before nothing grew 
but the wild things of the woods. It is God’s 
will that only those who make the most and best 
of His gifts shall continue to occupy the earth. 
Then he told the boy the parable of the “ two tal- 
ents,” and impressed him with the necessity for 
carrying out the evident will of the Creator, if 
he would make his people great. 

Thus, it will be seen, Wilfred was shaping the 
twig that it might become a fruitful tree of prom- 
ise, with God’s aid, and there is little doubt what 
manner of man and ruler Pometacom might have 
become had he and his mentor been allowed to 
grow up together. But, there came a day — a 
day that neither of them ever forgot — when, as 
they were wandering through the wood together, 
the comely maiden sought them out, panting 
from the fatigue of running, and, with hand on 
her heart, and eyes, wide-staring, she told that 


272 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


she had come from the hither end of the great 
pine bridge, where the warriors were posted who 
had been left behind by Metacom as sentinels. 
And she said, breathing hard and gasping for 
breath, that they had told her to go to the Little 
Sagamore in haste, for there were white men 
— soldiers, in great numbers — approaching the 
chasms from the other side. He was needed, 
and at once, to fire the big-moutlied gun, that he 
had loaded long ago for just such an emergency 
— to kill the invaders. Now they had come, — the 
white men — and were about to charge across the 
great pine-tree, so there was no time to lose ! 

Hearing this, Wilfred told the maiden to take 
Pometacom to the wigwam and then to a cave in 
the rocks, which had already been prepared for 
such an occasion, and there hide, with Weetamoe 
and the others who could be warned in time. 
Then he took up his musket and ran towards the 
pine-bridge; but had not gone far before he 
heard a cry, and looking back, saw his little com- 
panion, struggling in the arms of the maiden, 
and insisting that he should accompany his 
friend, wherever he went. 

“ I am chief/’ he cried; “ let me go; ” and the 
girl was compelled to let him, so stoutly he strug- 


THE LITTLE SAGAMORE’S WIGWAM. 273 

gled. Once on his feet, he ran as swiftly after 
Wilfred as his little feet could carry him; but the 
latter paid no attention to him then, being in 
haste to get to the spot that was menaced by the 
enemy. There he found a little knot of In* 
dians, gathered behind a big rock, peering out 
cautiously at a much larger party of white sol- 
diers on the other side the deep chasm. 

u Oh, Little Sagamore,” cried out the young 
man who had been deputed by Philip to act as his 
body-guard, “ behold the coming of your people. 
You only can prevent their crossing the bridge, 
you and the big-mouthed gun. We wait to hear 
it speak ! ” 

18 


CHAPTER XIX. 


HOW WILFRED WAS COMPELLED TO SURRENDER. 

“What, have ye turned cowards?” demanded 
Wilfred scornfully. “ Could ye not hold the 
bridge without my help? Why, only a few men 
can command this bridge — with the aid of this 
great gun.” 

“ True, Little Sagamore; but we know not how 
to fire it off. Show us how to blow the white men 
into pieces, Little Sagamore.” 

“ As though ye knew not how,” rejoined Wil- 
fred, at the same time tearing off the birch bark 
from the vent and tamping powder into it. 

“ Haste, men, haste, or they will be upon us ! 
Go ye to guard the bridge with your guns and 
spears. Think ye I can do it all? 

But the Indians still cowered down behind the 
great rock. They were eyeing him curiously, 
some with their guns at full cock, others with 
274 


WILFRED WAS COMPELLED TO SURRENDER. 275 

bent bows, arrows drawn to the head, as if with 
intent to let loose at their white commander. 

Then it flashed upon the lad that his men sus- 
pected him of turning traitor to their cause, of 
sympathy with the white invaders, and were 
waiting to see if he would oppose the latter, in 
the interests of the Wampanoags. It also flashed 
upon him, what might be the consequences of his 
act, if he were to fire upon those white men now 
gathered on the brink of the precipice and pre- 
paring to dash across at full speed. They had 
seen him, through the intervening screen of trees, 
but had not yet guessed his identity, and it oc- 
curred to him that he might yet escape detection, 
if he could but disguise himself as an Indian. 

Ignoring the intentions of his scowling scouts, 
who were regarding him with suspicious glances, 
he beckoned to his body-guard, who advanced re- 
luctantly. 

“ Give me your paint-box,” he said, and the 
Indian youth handed it over. “ Now, hold this 
slow-match where the wind cannot blow it out, 
while I paint my face the color of yours.” 

The wondering Indian complied, and when 
Wilfred was most intent upon the work of dis- 
guising himself by coloring his face a deep cop- 


276 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


per-red, he applied the slow-match to the powder. 
Instantly, of course, there was an explosion, and 
the old cannon leaped up as if alive, settling 
down again upon the blocks, as the smoke- 
wreatlis curled around its muzzle. 

Shrieks and yells followed the report, all 
from the other side; for, though the Indian had 
not known enough to sight the cannon, it was al- 
ready aimed along the length of the bridge, 
which was beginning to be alive with soldiers. 
All unknowingly, the crafty red youth had been 
the means of killing several white soldiers and 
wounding many more, for a large number were 
gathered at the other end of the bridge. 

“ What — what have you done? ” gasped Wil- 
fred, startled by the noise, and suspending his 
work, just as he was about putting the finishing 
touches to his disguise. 

“ Done,” repeated the Wampanoag, “ Done 
what you no want do — Fire at white soldiers — 
fire, and kill too.” 

“ Now we’re in for it, of a verity,” rejoined 
Wilfred. “ You fool. So you suspected me, 
eh? Well, you are caught in a trap of your own 
setting, of a sooth. For, if we had waited until 
the bridge was covered with soldiers', we might 


WILFRED WAS COMPELLED TO SURRENDER. 277 

have stopped them. Now, knowing we have no 
other gun, they will charge right across, and take 
us all.” 

“ They don’t know that,” sullenly replied the 
Indian. “ You load, quick, and we fire small 
gun, make b’lieve many men. Then you fire — 
bam , bam — shoot all white mens dead.” 

Whatever Wilfred had intended will never be 
knowm — whether he had indeed prepared himself 
to fire upon his ow T n people, or wrns merely dis- 
simulating to gain time — ; but he was now' com- 
pelled to act, with savage eyes glowering on him, 
with savage hands ready to take him by the 
throat. For, it seems, the Indians blamed him 
for the discovery of their retreat by the white 
men, and took not into account the acts of Philip 
and the other Indians in sending hither so much 
plunder that it w r as found out, perforce, by the 
watchful w 7 hite men. 

They w T ere enemies of those soldiers on the 
other side the chasm — that they knew; but first 
of all, even if they fell victims to those soldiers, 
they w T ould w 7 reak vengeance upon the traitor! 
The soldiers were thrown into temporary confu- 
sion by the rude welcome they had received at 
the cannon’s mouth, and drew off to reform and 


278 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


consult as to the best mode of attack. They suc- 
ceeded in carrying all their dead and wounded 
with them, save for tw r o or three wiio had fallen 
into the abyss, so the Indians, who w T ere ready 
to rush over and scalp such as they might find, 
w T ere deprived of their prey. 

This made them all the more sullen and re- 
vengeful, and they w-atehed Wilfred warily as 
he loaded the piece, some of them still covering 
him with their guns, the w T hile, the others firing 
aimlessly across the bridge. All the while, Wil- 
fred w-as thinking, thinking, how he should escape 
from the dreadful dilemma in which he was 
placed. In truth, he saw no w T ay of escape; but 
w 7 hile offering a prayer to God for aid in this 
dark passage of his life’s journey, it suddenly 
came over him that, come wdiat might, he could 
not — he could not — fire upon his former friends, 
men of his own blood, perhaps some of his own 
kin. Acting upon this impulse, he resolved to 
frustrate the schemes of the Indians and aid the 
invaders. What he did and how r he did it, will 
be revealed later in this story, wiien he was 
placed on trial for his life, and evidence w 7 as 
sought to hang him as a traitor to the colony. 

Even the sharp eyes of the savages were de- 


WILFRED WAS COMPELLED TO SURRENDER. 279 

ceived, and when the soldiers again rallied and 
made as if to charge across the bridge, he com- 
manded them to halt, standing with the slow- 
match ready to be applied, and with the cannon 
aimed right in their faces. Behind him were 
grouped the Indians, hardly a score in number, 
but all braves of stout determination, ready and 
willing to sell their lives in defence of this last 
refuge of their Queen and her child. 

And Pometacom, w T ho had reached the spot 
soon after Wilfred, and who had kept silence, 
fearing he might derange the plan of defence, 
w^as standing amid the group, clutching in his 
chubby fists the bow r s and arrows made for him 
by his friend. Wilfred had seen him, but had 
spoken only to w T arn him away, having been un- 
able to do more than this in the confusion of the 
first moments. As Wilfred stood there, wfith 
lighted match in hand, the boy crept forward 
and seized his disengaged hand, resisting all ef- 
forts to make him retire. Seeing this, most of 
the savages who had covered Wilfred with their 
muskets lowered their weapons and, with signifi- 
cant glances at each other, turned their atten- 
tion to the common enemy. 

If their young prince could trust the w T hite 


280 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


youth, so should they — their actions seemed to 
say; at all events, they acted on this assumption. 
Meanwhile, the soldiers had pushed their ad- 
vance half across the bridge, and were firing at 
the defenders of the island, who replied with 
desultory shots. The noise, the tumult, was in- 
creasing, so that Wilfred could hardly make him- 
self heard, as he shouted a warning for the in- 
truders to halt where they were, and advance 
further at their deadly peril. 

“ I can sweep you all into eternity,” he 
shouted. “ Come no further, but go back. One 
step more and you are all dead men ! ” The 
soldiers huddled together, those foremost unable 
to retreat for the press behind, and their hold 
on life, like their footing, seemed precarious, in- 
deed. 

“ Wait ye ! ” cried a deep voice from the 
throng, a voice which Wilfred recognized at once 
as that of Captain Church. “ I would parley 
with the leader, perchance we may arrange aught 
to our mutual advantage.” 

He elbowed through the ranks on the great 
pine-tree, at imminent risk of dislodging some 
of the soldiers and sending them to their death 
below, and at last stood boldly out, valiant leader 


WILFRED WAS COMPELLED TO SURRENDER. 281 

that he was, one always “ ready to speak with 
the enemy at the gate.” 

“ Ho there, varlet, wouldst shoot us down in 
cold blood, unable to retreat, and compelled to 
advance? ” 

“ Not compelled to advance, noble Captain,” 
answered Wilfred coolly, “ and to retreat is no 
shame, seeing that I shall blow off your heads at 
the first sign of coming hither.” 

“ Ha, wouldst thou? Methinks no savage 
talks with accent like unto that. Perchance 
thou ? rt no enemy, after all.” 

“ Enemy or no; my position compels me to do 
harm to ye and your followers, if ye advance, for 
I have here a sacred charge to defend.” 

“ But we will not harm them, nor thee, per- 
chance we get across, and no further opposition 
offereth,” rejoined Captain Church in his most 
wheedling tones. 

“ Come, now, it is irksome here, poised on 
this tree ’twixt ye heavens and ye black chasm 
down beneath.” 

“ Then go back ! ” exclaimed Wilfred promptly. 
“No one asked ye, forsooth, to make this par- 
lous venture — least of all, these present here.” 

“ But we feel constrained,” continued the Cap- 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


282 

tain. “We have heard that there dwelleth 
here one whom we used to neighbor, a youth 
named 

“ Yes, yes, I know,” interposed Wilfred. “ I 
am he — know that, without further beating about 
the bush. I have fought with thee — now I am 
opposed — Is that clear?” 

“ Clear it is, but why should it be? We would 
save thee from the trickery that hath ensnared 
thy soul, beseems. Give in, now, and allow us 
to cross ! ” 

“ Only on oath, from you and those with you, 
that the lives of all on this island shall be pre- 
served. For they are in my charge, and defend 
them I shall, to the utmost of my being ! ” 

“ Ha, there is something ! What say, com- 
rades? Will ye save these pagans from merited 
death and preserve them, without slaughter? ” 

“ Aye, aye,” came in a chorus from the waiting 
soldiers. “ Anything only to give us relief from 
this constraint ! ” 

“ Hear ye that, lad, to which I subscribe Amen. 
Now will ye?” 

“ So far as in me lies,” answered Wilfred; 
“ but there remain some others to consult. 

“Nay nay, do not advance yet,” as the Cap- 


WILFRED WAS COMPELLED TO SURRENDER. 283 

tain and those behind him started over. “ Halt, 
where you are, or yet the powder may speak, and 
to your hurt, mark ye ! ” 

“ Thou’rt hard upon us, lad,” muttered the 
Captain, balancing himself with caution upon 
his precarious perch. “ Canst not trust us?” 

“ Yes, noble Captain, I can trust you, and per- 
chance those valiant men-of-war in company 
with you, for I’ve fought with you and tried your 
metal ; but, how about those who are above us all 
in authority? ” The Captain was crestfallen, 
for, with a pang at his heart, he recalled how he 
had been overridden when last he arranged a sur- 
render for some sagamores. He had promised 
them immunity from harm, and relying on that 
promise they had given up their arms and were 
taken to Plymouth. Having full faith in the in- 
tegrity of the authorities, he had left them in 
charge of the Plymouth men, and hastened back 
to the seat of war. During his absence, (while, 
in fact, he was still hastening back to battle for 
the colony,) the sagamores were brought to trial 
and sentenced to be hanged! As soon as the 
news reached Captain Church he made all haste 
to return, and enter protest against the sentence; 
but the first things that greeted him, as he 


284 : 


IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 


sighted the gateway of the stockade surrounding 
Plymouth settlement were the sagamores’ heads, 
on poles above the gate! Wroth was he then, 
and he raged like a lion; but to what purpose? 

He hung his head, as he replied, “ Son Wil- 
fred, I promise — and these brave men here with 
me promise, that, so long as we have strength 
to strike a blow and pull a trigger, we will de- 
fend these, your friends, from harm. We will 
ourselves — you and I — go with them to Ply- 
mouth, and plead their cause before the Court.’’ 

“ As well might we meet before an assemblage 
of wolves, or of hyenas,” rejoined Wilfred scorn- 
fully, “ and you know it, Captain Church ! ” 

“ Well, what wouldst thou, boy? Here will I 
swear, that, perchance they do aught underhand 
to thee and thy friends, I will forswear my 
country, or at least will not raise a hand in her 
defence again for the war; and so, also, will 
promise all my company.” 

“ Yea, we promise, we promise!” shouted the 
soldiers. “ Now, let us over ! ” 

“ No, hold yet a few minutes, friends. There 
are some warriors here I would fain consult.” 

Turning to the braves, who were huddled in a 
scowling group apart, awaiting the result of the 


WILFRED WAS COMPELLED TO SURRENDER. 285 

parley, Wilfred, in a few words, explained the 
situation. He told them it would be impossible 
to hold off the white men, now that they had 
found their way to the place, even if they could 
decimate the ranks before them. That, as sur- 
render was inevitable, some time, it would be 
best to avail themselves of the proffered terms of 
amnesty, and yield. 

His remarks were received with great disfavor, 
even though the warriors recognized the perils of 
their position, and much dissatisfaction was ex- 
pressed thereat. But they pretended to consult 
together, and, as they drew apart for this pur- 
pose, one of them suddenly sprang at Wilfred 
from behind. He clutched him by the throat and 
bore him to the ground, so sudden had been the 
onset, before the lad was aware of his peril. 

The brave seemed animated by an insane 
furor, probably arising from long brooding over 
the wrongs inflicted upon his people by the white 
men, and, acting upon impulse, committed the 
deed that sealed his fate. For, as he fell to the 
ground, with Wilfred underneath, an avenger 
sprang quickly to the rescue — none other than 
little Pometacom, while the others stood wonder- 
ingly by, in stupefied amaze. 


286 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


The boy had in his hands his bows and arrows, 
tiny, but made of toughest wood, and fitting an 
arrow quickly to the bow-string, he let it fly with 
all the strength of his arm, right into the left eye 
of the warrior. With a howl of anguish, the 
brave loosed his hold on Wilfred and rolled over 
by his side, while the latter rose unhurt, before 
the Indian’s comrades came to his aid. Captain 
Church and his company had seen something of 
the happening, though the combatants had been 
partially screened by trees, and at once availed 
themselves of the unobstructed passage across 
the bridge. 

They came flocking over, in such numbers that 
the savages were quickly overwhelmed, without 
a shot being fired ; and thus, through the aimless 
vengeance of a stupid savage, the surrender was 
accomplished. For, there were no other warriors 
on the u island,” though there were hundreds of 
women and children, and some old men too feeble 
to fight. The taking of the bridge defenders set- 
tled the fate of the islanders for good and all, 
as Wilfred knew would be the case, so there 
was now nothing further to arrange, except the 
prompt evacuation of the camp. 


WILFRED WAS COMPELLED TO SURRENDER. 287 

“Well, lad, we have thee, now!” exclaimed 
Church, joyfully.” 

“ Yea, and we have him without terms added 
his lieutenant, a big, hulking Welshman, who 
had not been long enough in the colony to get the 
“ burr ” out of his speech. 

“ Nay, not without terms,” retorted Wilfred, 
indignantly. “ You had all promised — given 
your solemn word — that we should not be mis- 
treated. 

“ Yea, but you had not accepted, forsooth, but 
was consulting your redskin wretches, when over 
we dashed and took the place ! ” 

“ You never could have done it but for my tol- 
erance,” rejoined Wilfred hotly. “ I had you 
all at my mercy, — that you cannot gainsay, — 
and, meseemeth, it were mercy ill applied.” 

“ Thou shalt have the benefit of the doubt, my 
lad,” interposed Captain Church. “ I, for one, 
know thy integrity, thy good intentions; and if 
I be not. overborne, all thy friends shall go free, 
after w T e have done our duty and conducted them 
to Plymouth as prisoners of war. Who have ye 
here of position, perchance? This boy by thy 
side, who clingeth to thy hand so fast, and who 


288 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


made so promptly to thy rescue — he seemeth 
noble in his bearing.” 

“ And he has a right, for his lineage is prouder 
than yours or mine, most noble Captain. He is, 
in sooth, Metacomet’s child, his only son, Po- 
metacom. I love the lad and — as he hath shown 
by that prompt and generous deed, — he loves me ; 
else I mistake myself — and him.” 

“ Ha, the son of Metacom? Then in sooth 
have we made an important capture to-day ! He 
shall serve as hostage for his sire, methinks the 
Court will declare, so we must act warily with 
them, my son.” 

“ We will act honestly, and bravely,” rejoined 
Wilfred, with some heat. “ And, so I swear to 
you, and will swear to them, — they shall act 
honestly and justly by this lad and his mother ! ” 

“ His mother? She, too, the great Queen Wee- 
tamoe? Lad, thou’rt a wonder, to have had them 
in charge. Thy reward for their surrender shall 
be great, i’ faith; at least, so should the Court de- 
clare.” 

“ My reward — the only reward I ask, — is their 
freedom,” replied Wilfred. “ Chance placed 
them in my charge — or rather, Providence — and 
by me shall they be always defended.” 


CHAPTER XX. 


CAPTAIN CHURCH AND HIS PRISONERS. 

“ I admire thy courage, son ; but be not too 
obstinate; the Plymouth brethren are none too 
liberal, thou knowest, and might not view thy 
chivalrous determination in too favorable a 
light.” 

“ Perchance,” answered Wilfred; “ but I am 
not measuring myself by their standard, which 
is far short of just, let alone being liberal, in 
sooth. Right is right and honor is honor ! These 
people have done nothing to merit punishment, 
much less death or imprisonment — which have 
full oft been meted out to others of their kin.” 

“Yea, thou are right; with exception of him 
who fired off the cannon, killing some of our 
men, and putting others in grave peril, besides 
wounding several more. Leave out him, and the 
19 289 


290 


IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 


savage that took thee by the throat, and it 
seemeth as thou sayeth.” 

“ Well, the last one you mention has already 
received his deserts; the first one was merely 
acting on the defensive. We did not ask you to 
come in search of us, nor to cross the bridge; 
kindly bear in mind the justice of our position.” 

“ That I do, my lad, that I do; but I am trying 
to place myself in the attitude of judge — of the 
judge before whom ye will be taken, — of him and 
his coadjutors. It is a principle of war, you 
know, to always look out for a way of retreat ; 
to raise questions that may occur and be pre- 
pared to combat them with forceful argument.” 

“ As to that, perhaps you are in the right, my 
Captain; but, why take us before the judges? 
“ Why not leave us here on parole, where we are 
harming nobody, and where we shall stay, unless 
forcibly removed? ” 

“ Tut, tut, lad, know thou, it is in accordance 
with the orders of those our superiors, that we 
are to take all prisoners, first to Plymouth, then 
to such places as the honorable Court may di- 
rect.” 

“Then, a truce to this parleying; the sooner 
we are there the better, for our minds will then 


CAPTAIN CHURCH AND HIS PRISONERS. 291 

be set at rest. Come, now, and I will show thee 
where I had abode for these months past. It is 
a sorry house enough I shall bring thee to; but 
it hath a place in my affections, as well as its 
inmates, who were in my care. 

“ This boy, young Pometacom, Philip’s only 
son and heir, is, as you see, grave and contained 
beyond his years, yet hath he deep affection for 
me, and is capable of being led — Mark me, led, 
not driven ! — in the direction of good works and 
high morality. I love him for his own sake; I 
honor him for his high qualities; and as well, I 
honor and respect his mother, the lovely Wee- 
tamoe, who shall be treated with the courtesy 
due her sex and rank, so long as I draw breath 
and am her protector.” 

“Well hast thou said it, son, and sturdily. 
For these sentiments do I honor thee. If the 
matter remained only between thee and me, 
sooth, it could be arranged to the satisfaction of 
all; but above us is the great Court of the Col- 
ony, in a sense our commander-in-chief, and if 
we obey not its commands we shall be considered 
derelict. 

“ V faith this boy by thy side is a sturdy lad, 
as I have said, verily a ‘ chip of the old block,’ I 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


292 

doubt not. Yet was Metacom a son of great and 
good Massasoit ; and see what he came to ! ” 

“ Because he was imposed upon by bad and 
malicious white men,’’ answered Wilfred bit- 
terly. “ Mind thee, Pm not for defending Meta- 
comet. Doubtless he hath, ere this, — long ere this 
— committed the unpardonable sin, in the eyes of 
man. In the sight of God there is but one sin 
unpardonable, our Minister hath preached, and 
that is, the sin against the Holy Ghost; but, if I 
mistake not, the list of sins of that sort hath been 
extended by man created in His image.” 

“ Yea, hath it,” responded Captain Church ; 
“ if thou meanest the sins on account of which 
the death penalty is demanded. But it ill be- 
seems me, a man of the sword, to cavil at those 
who, in the security of their homes, decree death 
to those I capture in fair fight. Couldst only see 
the heads these Christian judges have caused to 
be set up on poles; the hands they have ordered 
stricken off ; the unfortunate wretches they have 
made to be hanged in chains! — ah, my soul 
sickens, when I reflect upon what will be de- 
manded by God for this ! ” 

“ We may leave that with God,” answered 
Wilfred solemnly. “ It only behooves us to so 


CAPTAIN CHURCH AND HIS PRISONERS. 293 

comport ourselves that we be found guiltless. 
Bear that in mind, good friend, and especially 
remember to apply it here, — right here, in deal- 
ing with these unfortunate friends of mine.” 

The while this conversation was conducted, 
the Captain, Wilfred, and Pometacom were pro- 
ceeding toward the wigwam, followed at a short 
distance by the company of soldiers and their 
prisoners. Arrived at the hut, the Captain was 
invited to enter, without ceremony, for Wilfred 
believed the Queen and her sister to be hidden in 
the cave, and hoped to obtain further guaranty 
of safety before delivering them up to his cap- 
tors. To his surprise, at the far end of the wig- 
wam, one each side the hearth, stood Weetamoe 
and Awashan, her comely sister. In front of 
them was the table, spread with all the dainties 
their restricted stock of food afforded. 

Taking in the situation at a glance, Wilfred 
stepped forward, as Pometacom ran ahead and 
threw his arms about his mother, in one hand 
still clutching the bow and arrows with which he 
had done such valiant service. In a few words, 
Wilfred presented his friend, the Captain, hav- 
ing no need to explain the occasion of his visit, 
for the news of the invasion had already reached 


294 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


the inmates of the wigwam. The women received 
their guest most graciously, and in order to cover 
his confusion, invited him to be seated at the 
table, where they comported themselves with the 
grace of high-bred dames, greatly to the surprise 
of the blunt old soldier. 

“ Beseems we might be at the Governour’s 
board,” he said to Wilfred, in a stage whisper, 
after having recovered his wit somewhat. 

“ You might better say at a King’s table,” re- 
torted Wilfred quickly. “ You may recall that 
Philip hath ever held that he should treat only 
with our dread sovereign, instead of with ‘ un- 
derlings ’ — as he hath called them full oft. But, 
have a care what thou sayest, Captain, for the 
maiden, Awashan, was educated at Plymouth.” 

“F faith, sayest thou? Sooth, lad, she is 
verily a beauty, and I care not she heareth me 
say so, old soldier that I am, with wife and 
family full grown. She is both beautiful and 
good, I trow.” 

“ That is she,” assented the youth ; and then, 
turning to the girl, he said: “ Hear that, 
Awashan, my friend payeth thee a compliment ! ” 

“ It matters not,” replied the maiden, a dark 
flush mounting to her cheek. “ As God made me, 


CA.PT AIN CHURCH AND HIS PRISONERS. 295 

so am I. What news brings he of our royal 
master? Hath he been taken yet? Have the 
English yet his head?” 

“ Nay, daughter,” replied the captain, though 
taken aback by the girl’s frankness. “ His head 
yet remaineth on his shoulders, methinks, and 
with it hath he worked the destruction of our- 
selves and properties. Last heard from, he was 
ravaging the settlements ’twixt here and the 
Narragansets; but to-morrow, or next week, per- 
chance, he may be in yet another region, for 
verily he hath means to travel fast.” 

The maiden smiled significantly as she inter- 
preted this answer to her sister, but she an- 
swered nothing. Weetamoe also smiled, but a 
frown swiftly followed, as the tactless captain 
added : “ Full oft have I striven to catch him, 
but hitherto without avail. Still, the hope re- 
maineth that, having now his wife and boy, the 
old bird may be caught, as in the snare of the 
fowler ! ” 

“ Ye shall not use us as bait; rather will we 
repel him,” flashed out Weetamoe, when this had 
been interpreted. “ Think not that we will cau- 
tion him to surrender! His life, we know, is 
forfeit; but it is worth more than our lives, and 


296 


IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 


yours added! You may keep us prisoners till 
we die; but die we will, before betraying Meta- 
com ! ” 

The Captain, forgetting for the moment that 
he was a guest of the Queen, though as well she 
was his prisoner, was about to reply hotly, when 
Wilfred interposed, with praise for Pometacom, 
who, he declared, had saved his life. He then 
narrated the details of the fight, and how the boy 
had darted in and rescued him from the deadly 
grasp of the w r arrior. 

Pride and love filled the eyes of Weetamoe, at 
this recital of her darling’s gallant act; but the 
white men were reminded that she considered 
herself, first of all, a Wampanoag, when she 
chided her son for shooting one of their tribe, 
and expressed great concern for the wounded 
warrior. 

Pometacom hung his head, but answered 
stoutly : “ He was killing Little Sagamore, our 
good friend; and moreover, if he had not sprung 
upon him we might have beaten off the enemy ! ” 

“ Ye might, forsooth,” exclaimed the Captain, 
when this had been interpreted to him ; “ but 
would ye, thinkest thou, son Wilfred?” 

u The question is, not would I, but could I,” 


CAPTAIN CHURCH AND HIS PRISONERS. 297 

replied Wilfred evasively. “ You must admit, I 
think, that if that cannon had gone off, there 
would have been few white men left on the 
bridge ! ” 

“ Yea, that will I ; but ever I had belief that 
thou wouldst not have- treated so terribly thine 
own countrymen.” 

“ Captain,” said Wilfred abruptly, without an- 
swering directly, “ will you accompany me 
back to the bridge? I desire to show you some- 
thing.” 

Wonderingly, the soldier consented, and after 
the meal was over he and Wilfred retraced their 
steps to the brink of the chasm, where, without 
witnesses (all the company and their captives 
being gathered around or near the wigwam) 
they made a searching examination of the field- 
piece. As what they found — or rather, what 
Wilfred pointed out to the Captain, and he con- 
firmed by a test — had an important bearing upon 
the lives and liberties of the youth and his In- 
dian friends, when they were brought before the 
Court for trial, it will not be revealed at present, 
but will be kept until the proper time. Suffice 
it, that, after all was over, the Captain gathered 
Wilfred in his arms, exclaiming: “ And I was 


298 


IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 


base enough to suspect thee, lad. Forgive me: 
thou hast indeed the nature of the dove, but the 
wisdom of ye serpent ! ” 

“ I had a duty,” answered Wilfred simply, 
“to both white friends and red friends; and 
tried to save you all from harm ! ” 

The two friends turned their steps toward the 
wigwam, there to begin the removal of the people 
and booty from the island. Half way back, per- 
haps, had they gone, w r hen they heard a shriek, 
and saw the lovely Awashan speeding tow r ard 
them. Close in pursuit was the burly Welsh- 
man, w r ho for the nonce was Captain Church’s 
first lieutenant. He w^as an ill-favored rascal, 
at his best, but now his face was distorted with 
evil passions and his eyes w^ere bloodshot. As 
Awashan reached her friends she wheeled around 
behind them, and darting between the tw T o, she 
placed her hands, one on either shoulder, leaning 
heavily thereon, and panting as though all but 
exhausted. 

Seeing at a glance that the Welshman w 7 as 
pursuing the maiden with no good intent, and 
that he still meditated seizing her, notwithstand- 
ing his presence and that of his Captain, Wilfred 
thrust out his foot, as the fellow ran past, and 


CAPTAIN CHURCH AND HIS PRISONERS. 299 

was the cause of his plunging heavily to the 
ground. He was not so badly stunned that he did 
not recognize the youth’s intention, which was to 
cause him to desist, and was quickly on his feet 
again and advancing toward him threateningly. 

“ Have a care, boy,” he said, “ what you do to 
a colonial soldier! Remember your position, 
which is not a whit too secure ! ” 

“ Whatever I remember,” answered Wilfred, 
“ I shall not forget myself so far as to do harm to 
a maiden ! Moreover, this one is in my care, for- 
get not that, not to mention the captain of your 
company ! ” 

“ To my superior officer I bow,” rejoined the 
Welshman, “in matters military; but this is a 
private affair, in which he has no say.” 

“ What? Will he permit you to insult a 
woman, and in his presence? ” 

“ Of course I won’t,” exclaimed the Captain, 
now aroused to what was happening. “ Leften- 
ant, go back to your duty. And, know that this 
girl is under our care; you are not to touch her 
nor approach her ! ” 

The man withdrew, muttering threats against 
Wilfred for his interference. “ I’ll meet thee in 
court, my gay lad,” he said, as he went away. 


300 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


“ Perchance a rope may then be placed round thy 
neck ” 

“ You have the face of a hangman, truly,” re- 
torted the youth in a flash; “ but no honest judge 
would accept evidence from such as you. As to 
meeting me: anywhere will do, and at any time; 
you’ll find me ready ! ” 

“ I’m sorry,” said Awashan, tears gathering in 
her big brown eyes. “ But that man pursued 
me, and he lay hold of my shoulder, saying I was 
to be his prisoner, and — and, there was no one 
else to go to.” 

“And quite right, fair maid,” upspoke the 
Captain gallantly. “ Quite right art thou, for 
in us two, thou hast alway defenders! I am 
sorry, myself, that this man’s official connections 
make it impossible for me to correct him. He 
came as a volunteer, from the Governor’s own 
household, and strongly recommended for the 
position, to which I appointed him, for this ex- 
pedition only.” 

“ Captain,” said Wilfred, “ so be it thou canst 
not punish him, and have no jurisdiction, is it 
not also true that thou hast no right to interfere, 
should any one else take it upon himself to chas- 
tise that scoundrel and correct his manners? ” 


CAPTAIN CHURCH AND HIS PRISONERS. 301 

“ Ho, what is this? Wouldst still be at him, 
lad? Have a care, as he saith, for he is big and 
burly, and might injure thee ! But as to the field 
being clear — consider it so, my lad, for I shall 
not interfere.” 

“ I ask nothing more,” rejoined Wilfred 
calmly, “ than a fair field and no favor shown to 
either of us. I would to heaven that I could be- 
speak the same at my forthcoming trial in the 
court ! ” 

“ But thou shalt have it ! ” roared the Cap- 
tain. “ Have it, eke if I beat down the tipstaff’s 
pikes to get at the judge ! ” 

“ Do not fight on my account,” pleaded Awa- 
shan, still with a glistening tear or two trembling 
on her lashes. “ I am, you know, only — only an 
Indian, and not worth the while for you to get 
into trouble over.” 

“ Indian or no, — that is not the question,” an- 
swered Wilfred. “ Thou art a maiden, and a 
sweet one, good and pure, believing in our God 
and his angels, and no insult shall be put upon 
thee so long as I am within call of thy voice! ” 

“ I thank you,” said Awashan gently.” I have 
no father and no mother, — both are dead; only 
my sister, and she is as helpless as I ; while Philip 


302 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


is absent, and, doubtless we shall never see him 
more, for the Plymouth Christians have set a 
price upon his head, they tell me.” 

The Captain winced at this unintended thrust, 
but said nothing. Wilfred answered: “It is 
true; Christians or no, they have so done. But 
while I cannot prevent my people from cutting 
off Philip's head — when they catch him — I can, 
and so long as I am a free person will, stand off 
harm from them to his family ! ” 

“ Boy, thou hast grown, in these few months 
since I have known thee, to the stature of a 
man,” said the Captain, admiringly. “ I would 
that thy father and thy mother could see thee 
now.” 

“ Ah, would I could but see them awhile,” 
said Wilfred with a sigh. “ But whatever I do 
they doubtless will approve, and that must suf- 
fice.” 

“ Eke it must, and will,” said the Captain cor- 
dially. “ They will have good cause to be proud 
of thee, and I shall tell them so.” 


Two days after the soldiers had invaded the 
“ Island,” a long procession wended its way 


CAPTAIN CHURCH AND HIS PRISONERS. 30$ 

through the forest, across the prostrate pine, and 
along the farther side of the chasm, in due time 
arriving at Mount Hope, then passing to the 
Taunton river, taking in Rehoboth on the way. 
Word had been sent ahead that Metacomet’s 
squaw and son were among the prisoners cap- 
tured by the great Captain Church, and, (though 
there were rumors that King Philip was hot on 
the trail, burning to avenge their capture and 
rescue them from the English,) numbers of the 
settlers ventured out from the garrison-houses 
where they had taken refuge, in order to have a 
sight of the beauteous Weetamoe, her sister and 
the boy. 

Among them, of course, were the Wilkins 
family: father, mother, sister and brother, of 
King Philip’s friend, who was held a technical 
prisoner. That is, he was allowed his liberty, 
though only on parole; this much Captain 
Church having been obliged to concede to the 
lieutenant and his men, who were clamorous for 
more severe proceedings against the youth. 

The Welshman was insistent that Wilfred 
should be bound, at least his arms be confined, 
thinking that with his enemy disabled he would 
still be able to seize on Awashan and retain her 


304 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


as his share of the booty. But Church would not 
consent to this, so Wilfred walked as free as 
any of the soldiers, and had much more influence 
with their Captain. Little Pometacom clung to 
him the more, now that he was a prisoner, feel- 
ing perhaps that, besides his mother and his aunt, 
he had no other friend. 

As he likewise clung to his mother, Wilfred 
was of necessity more in the company of his In- 
dian friends than of the white soldiers. This 
fact gave color to the tale told by the Welsh- 
man : that Wilfred was a traitor to the colony, 
and was but a spy in the pay of Philip. He said 
to them : “ You just watch him and see if it 
ain’t so. See how he clings to the com- 
pany of the squaw and her brat, likewise 
to that of the wench. He’s with ’em all the 
time ! ” 

“ That’s what makes ye mad, Ike,” exclaimed 
one of the common soldiers, which remark raised 
a loud guffaw. “ Ye’d like to be there yerself, 
some on us guess, pooty likely ! ” 

“Well, that’s my hunt,” answered the lieu- 
tenant. “And if I want to, I’ll be there, too; 
but I’m going to have it out with him, fust ! ” 

“ He may take it out of you ! ” remarked one 


CAPTAIN CHURCH AND HIS PRISONERS. 305 

of the rangers, in the free-and-easy style peculiar 
to that company, banded together more for pro- 
tection, than for display. “ He looks like a lusty 
chap, and kin handle them flippers of hisn pooty 
keen, yew bet ! ” 

“ Pll give him the chance, right away,” re- 
marked the Welshman. “ Only Fm sort of 
ashamed to be seen at fisticuffs with a boy ! ” 

In bravado, probably spurred on by the taunts 
of his men, the Lieutenant improved the first 
occasion that offered to open a quarrel with Wil- 
fred, who was by no means averse to take him 
up. It is not claimed for our friend that he was 
a saint; only “just an everyday sort of a boy,” 
not very different from the kind that is turned 
out now-a-days. He had some confidence in his 
ability to take care of himself, which even the 
hard knocks he had received had not yet driven 
out of his head, so he was not likely to shun the 
enemy. 

Nor did he do so, for, without putting himself 
in the Welshman’s way, he always contrived to 
be around when the latter sought speech with 
Awashan, or her sister, in response to their en- 
treaties. This finally became so offensive to the 

man that one day, as they were breaking out of 
20 


306 


IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 


the forest, he turned upon Wilfred without a 
word of warning, and smote him full in the face. 

Though taken by surprise, he dodged instinc- 
tively when he saw the blow coming, and it 
glanced to one side; which was a most fortunate 
thing, as the Welshman was a “ powerful hitter.” 
Some of his soldiers said “ a mule’s kick ain’t a 
circumstance to what Ike can do with his fist ! ” 
Wilfred heard this, and had determined that if it 
came to blows to force the fighting to close quar- 
ters at once, so, after standing still a moment, as 
if dazed (though all the while he was merely 
taking the measure of his opponent) he suddenly 
leaped upon his antagonist and cut him under 
the chin with such force that he tumbled to the 
ground. 

Ere he could regain his equilibrium, he dealt 
another forceful blow, and down he went a second 
time, bleeding freely from his damaged nose. A 
third blow of the same sort took all the fight out 
of him; and yet he was furious, as he lay there 
on the ground, afraid to rise, especially when one 
of his men said jeeringly, “ Ike’s sorter ’shamed 
to be seen fisticuffin’ with a boy; that’s the reason 
he’s layin’ there so quiet like! ” 

“ He don’t fight fair,” sputtered the discom- 


CAPTAIN CHURCH AND HIS PRISONERS. 307 

fited Welshman, rising to his feet, but with- 
out offering to engage in another bout. 

“ Well, I dunno,” said another soldier, “ seems* 
t’ me ’twas all right; he didn’t kick, nor bite, nor 
scratch; but just hit hard, — that’s* all.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 


OUR FRIEND ON TRIAL FOR HIS LIFE. 

The return to Plymouth of the redoubtable 
Captain Church, with his long train of prisoners 
and plunder, and among the former the wife 
and child of the relentless Metacomet, attracted 
a great throng of sight-seers, insomuch that it 
was difficult for the victorious soldiers to make 
their way through the town. 

In the van of the procession rode Captain 
Church, at his side his young friend, Wilfred, 
and close behind, mounted on native ponies, 
Weetamoe, Awashan and Pometacom, followed 
by the captive warriors. All were closely 
guarded, but only the limbs of the warriors were 
manacled; and but for their sad countenances, 
it might have been thought that the three mem- 
bers of King Philip’s family were being honored 
by this cavalcade and troop of infantry around 
and behind them. 


308 


OUR FRIEND ON TRIAL FOR HIS LIFE. 309 

As they passed beneath the cross-beams of the 
great gateway, fair Awashan suddenly clapped 
a hand over the eyes of Pometacom, who was 
close beside her, and uttered a shriek of terror. 
For, set on spikes above the beams, were the 
heads of seven Indians, so freshly dissevered and 
recently placed there that the blood seemed to 
be dripping from their wounds. Grim and 
ghastly were their faces, their vacant eyes staring 
into the sky, as if supplicating the great God 
of battles and vengeance for revenge. And grim 
were the faces of the soldiers as they gazed upon 
these gory spectacles, the visible tokens of recent 
victories over the savages. 

“ There’ll be some more there eftsoon,” re- 
marked one of the soldiers loudly to his com- 
panions, so that even the captives heard him. 
“ It be mercy misplaced, to let these cusses go 
who have been taken red-handed, no matter 
whether they be red-skins or white-skins, say 
I!” 

There was a murmur of assent at this sinister 
suggestion, for the soldiers had been well coached 
by the Welshman, who now rode at the rear of 
the captives, with the air of a triumphant con- 
queror. Looking at him there, and knowing 


310 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


not the circumstances of the capture, one might 
have held him to have been the real hero of the 
occasion, instead of his modest commander. 

Wending its way through the crowded streets 
of Plymouth, which were neither many nor wide, 
the troop came to a halt in front of the block- 
house used as a jail, into which, though it was 
already overcrowded, the captives were quickly 
hustled, between files of infantry on either side 
the entrance. The common captives were turned 
into a rude stockade adjacent to the jail, where 
they herded with hundreds of others who had been 
taken in the various raids and skirmishes by the 
colonials. 

“ Gaol’s pooty full, now,” said the grim old 
turnkey to Captain Church ; “ but soon’s the next 
batch ’s taken out and hung, there’ll be room 
enough, — unless,” he added facetiously, “ you go 
out and ketch some more before breakfast. It 
doos beat all how you can capter them savages, 
Capting, fighting ’em in their own way and on 
their own ground, too. It doos beat all ! ” 

u I’ve larned their ways,” answered the Cap- 
tain modestly. “ It’s easy ’nough after you know 
how, friend.” 

“ Yaas, s’pose so. Say, ain’t ye goin’ to leave 


OUR FRIEND ON TRIAL FOR HIS LIFE. 3H 

that white feller, also the two squaws and the 
youngster? C’n make room for ’em somehaow, 
out there ’n the stockade.” 

“ No, no,” answered the Captain. “ The lad 
goes with me, and the women and child will lodge 
with Mistress Church, likewise. “ I’ll be surety 
for their appearance when wanted, you know.” 

“ No, I don’t know ’bout that. S’pose you may 
think they ’s yourn, ’cause ye took ’em; but I 
hev orders to keep ’em under lock an’ key till 
the Gov’ner gits back, tomorrer, when they’ll 
be taken to court.” 

“ Can’t help that,” rejoined the old soldier, 
somewhat nettled. “ They lodge at my quarters, 
that’s flat; so give me receipt for the warriors, 
and we’ll away at once. I’ faith, I’m fat ; gued, 
and so, in sooth, are we all, having been two days 
and nights on ye road.” 

The old turnkey muttered a protest in his 
throat; but was about giving a receipt when the 
Welsh lieutenant rode up. “ You’ll receipt for 
all or none; at your peril for part only,” he 
shouted. “ That boy there’s a traitor, the wust 
sort of a spy, an informer ag’inst the colony. I 
demand he be put in the gaol ! ” 

“ Go back to your place ! ” thundered Captain 


312 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


Church, now thoroughly aroused. “ These are 
my prisoners, and this is my business. Go back, 
and at once, or I’ll cut ye down in your tracks, 
ye meddling critter!” 

There was no longer delay in arranging the 
matter now, for the turnkey, as well as the lieu- 
tenant, was cowed, and after giving directions 
for the soldiers to march to the commissary and 
turn over their plunder, the Captain led the way 
to his house, which was on a side street not far 
from the bay. 

“ Here, mother,” called out the Captain 
cheerily, as the little cavalcade drew up to his 
door and a kind-looking lady appeared. “ Got 
some visitors from down Pokanoket way. 
Thou’rt glad to see ’em, ain’t thee? Of course, 
and me too? Of course. Tired are we, and 
hungry; but not for long will we be, I trow, 
knowing thee as I do, mother. Pounds to pickles, 
the pot’s aboilin’ a’ready and the fowl on the 
spit in the firepla.ce, eh? If not, then what’s 
the use of sending on a post ahead, with the news 
of our coming? ” 

“ Fret not thy gizzard,” answered the motherly 
dame, with a smile of welcome offering her hand* 
first to Weetamoe, then to Awashan. “ Dis- 


OUR FRIEND ON TRIAL FOR HIS LIFE. 31 3 

mount, my dears, and come in, away from this 
rabble. 

“ And is that Dame Wilkins’ boy? Sooth, he 
is full young for the deeds he hath done. And 
this brown-cheeked little one? Philip’s son, 
sayest thou? Poor babe ! I knew his father once, 
when he was but a boy, meseems. 

“ Come inside, all, and such fare ye shall share 
as we have got.” 

“ This is my mother’s house,” said the Captain, 
as, a short time after their arrival, all were 
gathered in the big, low-ceilinged living-room. 
“ JVly wife and boys are down at Sogkonate, on 
the farm, exposed to the perils of Philip’s raid- 
ings, so be he goeth that way. In God’s hands be 
they; He will care for them. Now, ye are our 
guests till to-morrow when the court assembles; 
after that, God wot? 

“ His excellency the Governour is away a brief 
bit, which accounts for the lack of a reception 
by the authorities, to-day. But he will be here 
the morrow, and hath sent word for the holding 
of ye court. He is an upright man, is Governour 
Winslow, and the first that was born in the 
colony to hold that high position. He it was 
who commanded when we took ye Narraganset 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


314 

fort, and — But pardon me, I forgot we had here 
some of King Philip’s kin.” 

All were weary and little disposed for con- 
verse, after the bountiful meal was discussed 
which good Mother Church provided ; and though 
the morrow to come was very like to be a sad day 
for them all, they slept well, and arose in the 
morning refreshed and ready for what fate should 
bring them. Breakfast was scarcely over when 
the clatter of hoofs betokened the arrival of the 
dragoons who were to guard the prisoners to 
the meeting-house, in which the court was to be 
held. Arrived there, and seated in the dock, 
like common prisoners arrested for some crime, 
Wilfred and Weetamoe, Awashan and Pometa- 
com, awaited in silence the coming of the judge 
and their accusers. 

Around them were the grim old tipstaffs with 
their pikes and halberds; beyond, as great a 
throng as could crowd into the meeting-house, 
which, in lieu of a court-house, was used on occa- 
sions of this sort. It was a silent crowd that 
gathered there, and scarce a murmur broke the 
stillness as the dignitaries entered : grave judges’, 
generals of note, and at their head (preceded by 
a tipstaff in small-clothes), the honored Gover- 


OUR FRIEND ON TRIAL FOR HIS LIFE. 315 

nor, Josiah Winslow. Having seated them- 
selves, the court was called to order, followed 
with prayer, when the crier proclaimed the cause 
of this assemblage. 

As our readers already know what it was, we 
will not reiterate; but suffice it to state there 
was no delay, neither was there lack of disposi- 
tion to give the prisoners attention. 

Among the spectators, in the small gallery, 
Wilfred could see his father, mother, sister and 
brother, who had made the long journey to Plym- 
outh, amid perils beset by the way, in order to 
be near, when if possible to support and comfort 
him. Winthrop tried to get permission to sit 
with his brother in the dock, but was sternly 
refused and thrust back by the attendants. So 
there he was, in the company only of his Indian 
friends, with one arm protectingly over the 
shoulder of Philip's little son, and holding one 
of his hands in his. 

The little fellow was dazed by the transition 
from his forest haunts to such scenes as these, 
and had scarce uttered a word for days. Neither 
was his mother disposed to converse, being sore 
oppressed, as well as the sweet-faced Awashan. 

“ Of what is the white prisoner accused, and 


316 IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 

wlio is here to defend him?” asked the Gover- 
nor. 

“ Of consorting with Metacom, our great 
enemy, and of plotting against the well-being of 
the colony, and of shooting down soldiers sent 
to subdue him and his companion savages,” was 
the answer. “ He hath no one for defence, say- 
ing that he is guiltless of all these charges, and 
preferreth his cause should speak for itself.” 

“ On the face of it,” declared the Governor, “ he 
appeareth guilty of the first charge; still, that 
may be explained. In sooth, our gallant fighter, 
Captain Church, hath already given me sufficient 
proof that he was made a prisoner by Metacom, 
and constrained against his will. Neither can 
he be said to have plotted against the colony, 
peradventure he made no effort to pervert our 
soldiers nor led any expedition with intent 
of murder or ravage. Nothing that I can find 
in the evidence bears out this assertion, so that, 
as well as the first count, will be dismissed. But, 
as to the firing upon our soldiers, men of his 
own blood and family — that is far different. 
Know any one of ye that he hath done this? ” de- 
manded the Governor. 

There was a death-like silence in the room, 


OUR FRIEND ON TRIAL FOR HIS LIFE. 317 

following this question, then a commotion 
amongst the band of military men retained as 
witnesses in several pews by themselves. Then 
strode forth the lieutenant whom Wilfred had 
thrashed and said, “ May it please your Honor 
and the court, I myself saw this person touch 
off the piece that killed three of our men on the 
bridge and wounded others. He it was and 
none other, for he had the gun in charge, and 
others saw him, as well as me.” 

“ Prisoner, what sayest thou to that? Stand 
up and answer.” 

“ May it please this honorable Court and your 
Excellency the Governor,” replied Wilfred, 
calmly, “ I never fired that piece when it was 
pointed in the direction of any human being ! ” 

“ But you fired that first shot, we all saw ye! ” 
yelled the Welshman. “ And it was murder, for- 
sooth, murder most vile ! ” 

“ Most worthy Captain Church, who hast 
rendered such gallant service to this colony oft 
and repeatedly, what sayest thou on this charge? 
Did the youth fire that cannon at its first dis- 
charge? ” 

“ Nay, of a verity, he did not, your Excellency. 
He did not ! ” All his men then present swore 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


318 

to the same effect, testifying further that it was 
an Indian who had done it. 

“ Sufficient on that point,” declared the judge. 
“ Now, to establish the intent of this young man : 
whether he had resolved to slay his own country- 
men, and to that end not only aimed ye cannon 
at ye company, but was prepared to discharge it 
in their ranks. Peradventure this intention be 
established — whether he really committed the 
act or no — it will be our painful duty to de- 
clare him well meriting the 'penalty of death , to 
be carried out by hanging by the neck ! These be 
times most parlous, as ye all do know, hence ye 
extreme penalty must be applied to all who are, 
or meditate being, traitorous to ye commonweal. 
Prisoner, Avhat hast to say on this point? ” 

“ As before,” answered Wilfred unhesitatingly, 
“ I say it before my God, whom I have always 
served, even among the savages, — I not only did 
not fire the piece at my countrymen, but I had no 
intent to do so, moreover ! ” 

“ Had no intent? ” repeated the Welshman de- 
risively. “ How then thy boastings and threat- 
enings. Didst not threaten us, if we but made 
another step, ye would blow us to perdition and 
back?” 


OUR FRIEND ON TRIAL FOR HIS LIFE. 319 

“ Not in quite those words,” answered Wilfred 
with a smile. “ That I did threaten ye, I’ll admit. 
That I used my utmost endeavor to prevent ye 
from crossing the bridge and taking captive my 
innocent charges, these three present herewith, 
and others — that I admit. But, that I intended 
in all seriousness to kill or murder ye, — that 
I deny.” 

Turning to the Governor, he added : “ Your 

Excellency, I had in my keep a sacred trust. 
A trust bestowed by a savage — by Metacomet, 
whom ye call King Philip. His child (now by 
my side) ; his wife, and her sister — all are here 
— were entrusted to me while I was yet a captive 
and at his mercy. I had gone to seek him — as 
my true friend Captain Church can tell ye — in 
order that I might beg him to bring to end this 
unrighteous war. 

“ Meeting him by chance in the forest — though 
by design on his part well carried out — I had 
opportunity to labor with him long and earnestly. 
But he answered me : ‘ There is a price set upon 
my head by the Court of Plymouth. Think ye 
I can surrender, with that sure end in view? 
No, I will never surrender! It is too late! Let 


320 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


them withdraw their price upon my head, and 
then we will talk ! ’ 

“ But he yet detained me captive, and seeing 
that he trusted me with the care of his dearest 
and most beloved, it occurred to me that per- 
chance I might reach him through them, and 
to that end, also, have I labored; when my aim 
was frustrated by the coming of the soldiers.” 

“ Dost think, lad, that thou couldst have 
reached him, enraged as he was, and is, against 
us?” asked the Governor. 

“I know not,” replied Wilfred modestly; 
“ but I could have tried. At all events, I could 
have tried the only way that was open.” 

“ Through these, his wife and child? What 
thinkst thou, woman?” addressing Weetamoe, 
who sat like a statue, paying no attention. When 
the question was interpreted by Awashan, she 
replied haughtily: “If Little Sagamore could 
not reach my husband, the great Metacomet, then 
no one could, or can ! But no one can. He will 
never surrender ! ” 

“ That seals thy doom,” muttered Captain 
Church to himself. “ If only thou, poor wretch, 
had left open a door of hope, thy liberty might 
have followed ; but now, there is no hope ! ” 


OUR FRIEND ON TRIAL FOR HIS LIFE. 321 

“ Now, to recur to the cannon and the cross- 
ing of the bridge,” said the Governor. “ Thou 
, sayest no evil intent was in thy heart, yet by the 
piece thou stoodst, slowmatch in hand, ready to 
apply it to the powder, and send our soldiers to 
their death. Now, how can that be, lad, admit- 
ting it to be true?” 

“ Your Excellency, I admit that I stood be- 
side that cannon, and with a slowmatch in my 
hand, making as if to apply it to the powder; — 
but, not with intent to send your soldiers to their 
death.” 

“ How now, prevaricator? There remained 
only to apply the match, and that, as already ad- 
mitted, thou wert quite ready to do? ” 

“ Yes, your Excellency, even so, — but, the 
piece would not have been discharged; no lives 
of white men would have been lost.” 

“Why now? Remember, lad, thou’rt on thy 
grave’s brink; a misstep, and in thou goest! 
Bear in mind thy precarious situation, my 
boy.” 

“ I will, I do, your Excellency. But, I have 
not incurred the penalty of death for any deed 
of mine. The piece would not have gone off, be- 
cause — oh, because — . Will your Excellency al- 
21 


322 IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 

low a friend to testify — none other than the 
worthy Captain Church? ” 

“ Come forward, Captain, and give evidence. 
It is our will/’ said the Governor. 

“ I hear, your Excellency, and will obey ; but 
first let me introduce a witness — , dumb, — though 
having a mouth which will lie not — yet will bear 
convincing testimony as to this youth’s innocence 
of evil intent.” 

The great doors of the meeting-house were 
thrown open, and within was dragged the veri- 
table cannon that had seen service at the bridge. 
It was trundled up the aisle, (having been 
mounted on wheels), and brought to a stand- 
still before the Governor and the Court. 

“ Point it another way ! I command thee, Cap- 
tain ! ” exclaimed the Governor, as the doughty 
soldier lighted a match and proceeded to apply 
it to the vent. 

“ Have no fear, your Excellency, have no 
fear, for it cannot go off. There is a ball inside, 
forsooth; but, — mark this, your Excellency and 
the honorable Court — there is no powder behind 
the ball” 


CHAPTER XXII. 


SOLD INTO SLAVERY. 

In proof of his assertion, the Captain applied 
the match, (despite the frantic protests of the 
Court), and when no result followed, save a slight 
curling of smoke, the silence in which he had 
performed the act was broken. There followed 
a murmur of applause, which quickly swelled 
into an enthusiastic demand for Wilfred’s liberty. 

“ Set him free! set him free! he hath done no 
wrong ! ” were the cries that greeted the Court, 
and as soon as his dignity would permit it, the 
Governor gave heed. 

“ This is a strange thing, of a verity,” he be- 
gan. “ Stand up, my son. Tell me, didst load 
the cannon that way with intent?” 

“ With intent that it could not, by any possi- 
bility, do harm to the company of white men on 
the bridge.” 


323 


324 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


“Then, knowing that, how couldst have the 
assurance to threaten them, withal, seeing that 
they might have disregarded thy warnings, 
rushed forward and overpowered thee? ” 

“ I took the chances, your Excellency. Know- 
ing somewhat of human nature, (as I thought), 
I played upon their fears, hoping to induce them 
to retire without committing bloodshed.” 

“ Lad, it was rash in thee so to run a risk ; yet 
I cannot but admire thy courage and sagacity. 
But how was it that in the end our men prevailed 
and overcame thee? ” 

“ One of my Indians took me by the throat, 
holding me for a traitor to his side because I did 
not fire upon my friends. But for this boy, 
Philip’s son, I might not have escaped alive. He 
rescued me.” 

“ Brave lads, are ye both, I’ faith, and would 
I could reward ye as according to services ren- 
dered. Thou, Wilfred, son of Goodman Wilkins, 
shalt go free, and peradventure thy inclination 
run that way, a lieutenancy in the colonial army 
is at thy service. 

“Gentlemen, (turning to his coadjutors), I 
find no crime attached to this lad’s doings; with 
your concurrence, he shall be set at liberty.” 


SOLD INTO SLAVERY. 


325 


There being no dissenting voices, the Gover- 
nor’s dictum being supreme, his suggestion was 
complied with quickly, and soon Wilfred found 
himself in the arms of his family. Even the 
grave and taciturn Pilgrims of the older genera- 
tion allowed themselves to applaud the decision 
of the Governor, and some time elapsed before 
silence could be secured in the court-room. 

Wilfred’s family had been allowed to enter 
the dock where he and his Indian friends were 
confined, and there made the acquaintance of 
the shy and silent group. Their advances were 
not repelled, but neither were they encouraged, 
so that it was with tears gathering in her eyes 
that little Dorothy told Wilfred she could not 
get Pometacom to speak. 

“ But it is not from aversion to you,” he ex- 
plained. “ The poor boy is out of place and can- 
not but be constrained. He is like a cat in a 
strange attic, sweetheart; but when once free 
again you will find him a good companion.” 

“ But isn’t he free now? ” asked Dorothy. 
“You are, you know, for the Governor said so. 
I heard him. And why not your friends? ” 

“I don’t know, my love; but they are still 
retained prisoners. I shall not leave them until 


326 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


all is settled, so you and the rest must await 
me without the court, peradventure there be 
more to come.” 

There was “ more to come,” and quickly it 
came. For, hardly had the applause over the 
verdict subsided ere the worshipful Governor 
ordered quiet restored and proceeded with the 
trial of Philip’s family. 

“ We have here,” he said, “ representatives of 
the tribe of Wampanoags, higher than whom in 
standing there are few. They are intimately re- 
lated to that personage of bloody deeds and evil 
mind, Philip, or Metacomet, King of Pokanoket, 
who hath, as ye all know, been recreant to his 
trusts and obligations by treaty entered into 
with us, at divers times and places. Although 
the personal innocency of these his relatives may 
be granted, still, they are of his blood and kin, 
they may be cognizant of his schemes, and are 
doubtless well aware in which place he at pres- 
ent hideth. 

“ Know ye, that so far back as 1620, our prede- 
cessors entered into treaty with the great Mas- 
sasoit, by which there was mutual agreement, 
to wit : That neither he nor any of his should do 
injury to any of our people; That if any of his 


SOLD INTO SLAVERY. 


327 


did any hurt to any of ours, he should send us 
the offender, or offenders, that he or they should 
be punished; That if any thing were taken away 
from any of ours he should cause it to be re- 
stored, and we should do the like to his; That if 
any did unjustly war against him, we should aid 
him, and if against us, he should also render 
aid; That he should send to his neighbor con- 
federates to certify to this, that they might not 
wrong us, but might likewise be included in 
these conditions of peace; That when his men 
came to visit us on any occasion, they should 
leave their arms (which were then bows and 
arrows) behind them; That in so doing, our 
sovereign lord, King James, would esteem him, 
Massasoit, as his friend and our friend and ally. 

“ This league the same sachem, a little before 
his death, in 1660, did renew in favor of his son, 
Alexander; and after him the same was done 
with his successor, Philip, or Metacomet. Now, 
King Philip but indifferently performed his 
obligations, and never was he well disposed to- 
ward our religion, rather encouraging his people 
in their old pagan superstitions and devilish 
idolatries. Howsomever, it became so bad along 
in his reign that in 1671 we forced him to a new 


328 


IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 


covenant with us, and these are the Articles to 

which he then subscribed, to wit : 4 We, 

Philip, and nay council and my subjects do ac- 
knowledge ourselves subject to the King of Eng- 
land and the government of New Plymouth, and 
to their laws. 

4 1 am willing and do promise to pay unto the 
Governour of Plymouth one hundred pounds in 
such things as I have; but I would entreat the 
favour that I might have three years to pay it 
in, forasmuch as I cannot do it at present. 

4 1 do promise to send to the Governour, or 
whomsoever he shall appoint, five wolves’ heads, 
if I can get them; or as many as I can procure, 
until they come to five wolves yearly. 

4 If any difference fall between ye English and 
myself and people then I do promise to repair 
to the Governour of Plymouth to rectify the 
difference amongst us. 

4 1 do promise not to make war with any, but 
with the Governour’s approbation at Plymouth. 

4 1 promise not to dispose of any of ye lands 
that I have at present, but by the approbation of 
ye Governour of Plymouth. 

4 For the true performance of the same, I, the 
said sachem, Philip of Pokanoket do hereby bind 


SOLD INTO SLAVERY. 


329 


myself and such of my council as are present, 
ourselves, our heirs, our successors, do hereby 
promise faithfully, in witness whereof we have 
hereunto subscribed our hands, the day and year 
above written. 

‘ The mark, ‘ P,’ of Philip of Pokanoket, 
6 The mark, i U,’ of Uncomdaen, 
i The mark, ‘ W,’ of Wocokom, 
i The mark, ‘ 7,’ of Samkama. 

In the presence of the Court, and divers of the 
magistrates and other gentlemen of Massa- 
chusetts and Connecticut/ 

“ This is the treaty last entered into between 
us and Metacomet; but, yet the same perfid- 
ious caitiff still harbors the most mischievous 
thoughts against us, and hath killed and mur- 
dered hundreds, already, of our most estimable 
citizens. Since we cannot get him into our 
power alive, nor even dead, we may not yet cap- 
tivate him, and since we now have members of 
his family, who in a certain sense are responsible 
for his deeds and his debts; and furthermore, 
since the said sachem hath never paid the debt 
of one hundred pounds, either in money or heads 
of wolves, as promised, — whereas, all theste 
things exist, and the said family is undoubtedly 


/ 


330 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


responsible for said debts, it hath been proposed 
that they be sold into slavery in ye West Indies, 
to satisfy the cause of justice and ye debts of 
said Philip, or Metacomet, lately called King 
of Pokanoket ! ” 

Having delivered himself of all this, and ap- 
parently feeling that he had quite exhausted the 
subject, (if not his hearers), the honorable 
Governor awaited the next deliverance on the 
matter. 

There was silence awhile, during which, the 
defenceless prisoners at the bar remained as if 
turned into stone. As the speech was delivered, 
Awashan interpreted it to Weetamoe and her 
son, so they got the gist of it, though slow to 
comprehend that the entire pronouncement was 
an arraignment of themselves. When they did 
hnally, they settled back in their seats with 
\ stolid air of resignation on their faces. Only 
A washan betrayed any feeling, and this was on 
account of her efforts as interpreter. 

"here was one face, however, that showed a 
r indignation at the proposed procedure, and 
t] is was that of the one friend who had stuck 
i ) them through it all. Wilfred, as soon as he 
nl appreciated what was intended by the 


SOLD INTO SLAVERY. 331 

Court, leaped to his feet and began a defence of 
the Indians, which was listened to with respect 
and attention. 

But it was in vain that he plead, that he held 
out to the Court the advantages of treating with 
leniency these members of Philip’s family; the 
danger of arousing still more vengeful feelings 
in Philip’s breast if they should suffer any in- 
dignity. 

“ These poor creatures,” he said, “ have done 
nothing of themselves to merit punishment. Are 
they to be punished merely because they are 
united to Philip through the bonds of birth? It 
is not their fault that he has committed mas- 
sacres, burnings, murders. In fact, he is but 
retaliating now for the sins committed against 
himself. Arouse his feelings by mistreating these 
his nearest and dearest, and who will be respon- 
sible for his atrocities? Once assured that all 
hope is lost, that he can never regain wife or 
child, then he has nothing to live for, and will 
plunge into a very carnival of murder and mas- 
sacre. 

But, your Excellency and gentlemen of the 
Court, treat them with consideration, e’en though 
ye restrain them of their liberty, and, the knowl- 


332 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


edge of it getting to King Philip, will doubtless 
mitigate his unnatural ferocity. For, he is now 
like a wolf or a bear, deprived of its whelps or 
cubs, and who can blame him for giving rein 
to his murtherous hate?” 

Let it be said to their credit, that the Governor 
and his coadjutors gave heed to Wilfred’s im- 
petuous harangue. They weighed the subject 
carefully pro and con; they called for evidence 
as to all mitigating circumstances in behalf of 
the prisoners; yet, with one accord, did they 
condemn them to slavery and life-long servitude, 
and decree their transportation to the West 
Indies ! 

When the sentence was interpreted to Queen 
Weetamoe, (who, with her associates, had 
awaited patiently, yet wearily, the expected 
verdict, though indulging in no hope of amnesty), 
she gave no other sign than a gesture of despair. 
But, the sight of these three comparatively in- 
nocent persons condemned to a fate which to 
them was worse than death itself, affected many 
of the spectators to tears. Especially did the 
youth and innocence of the little lad, Philip’s 
only son, appeal to them, and the bright beauty 
of Awashan’s lovely face. 


SOLD INTO SLAVERY. 


333 


But the hearts of the Pilgrim settlers were 
hardened against all who had Indian blood in 
their veins; for they had suffered too much, had 
been harried too terribly, had lost too many of 
their friends and kindred by cruel death and 
tortures, to allow their sympathies to plead for 
the poor prisoners. 

Looking back upon the verdict of the Plymouth 
Court, after a lapse of more than two centuries, 
we may consider it harsh, even cruel; but there 
is no doubt that the judges considered themselves 
justified in severe measures against King Philip 
and his kindred. 

Near the conclusion of the war, a special agent 
was sent over from England, to enquire into the 
causes of that outbreak, and report as to the 
culpability of both settlers and Indians. Fol- 
lowing is his report, made at the time, in the 
quaint English of that day : . . . . 

“ As to the Causes and Results of King Philip’s 
Warre,” he says, “various are the Reports and 
Conjectures. Some impute it to the imprudent 
Zeal in the Magistrates of Boston, to Christian- 
ize those Heathen, before they were civilized, 
and injoyning them the strict Observance of 
their Lawes, which, to a People so rude and Li- 


334 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


centious, hath proved Intolerable; and that the 
more for the Magistrates, for their Profit, put 
the Lawes so severely in Execution against the 
said Indians, the People (on the other Side, for 
Lucre and Gain) intice and provoke ye Indians 
to the Breach thereof, especially to Drunkenness, 
to which those People are so generally addicted 
that they will strip themselves’ to the Skin, to 
have their full of Rumme or Brandy. 

“ The Massachusettes having made a Lawe 
that every Indian drunke should pay 10 Shillings 
or be Whipp’d, according to the Discretion of 
ye Magistrates, many of these poor People will- 
ingly offered their Backes to the Lash, to save 
their Money; whereupon ye Magistrates, finding 
much Trouble and no Profit, to arise to the 
Government by whipping, did change that 
Punishment into 10 Days’ Worke for such as 
could not, or would not, pay the Fine of 10 Shil- 
lings, which did highly Incense ye Indians. 

“ But, whatever the cause, ye English have 
contributed much to their Misfortunes, for they 
first taught ye Indians the use of Armes, and 
admitted them to be present at all their Musters 
and Trainings, and shewed them how to handle, 
mend and fix their Muskets; and having been 


SOLD INTO SLAVERY. 


335 


furnished with all sorts of Armes by permission 
of Government, so that ye Indians are become 
excellent Firemen. 

u And at Natick there was gathered a Church 
of Praying Indians, so called, who were exercised 
as trained Bands under Officers of their owne; 
these have been the most barbarous and cruel 
Enemies to the English of any others. Capt. 
Tom, their Leader, being lately taken and 
hanged, at Boston, with one other of their 
Chiefs. 

“ No Advantage but many Disadvantages, have 
arisen to the English by the Warre, for about 
600 Men have been slaine, and 12 Captaines, 
most of them brave and stout Persons and of 
loyal Principles; whilst ye Church Members had 
liberty to stay at Home and not hazard their 
Persons in ye Wildernesse. 

“ The losse to ye English in ye severall Collon- 
ies, in their Habitations and their Stock, is reck- 
oned to amount to 150,000 Pounds, there being 
about 1,200 Houses burned, 8,000 head of Cattel 
killed, and many thousand Bushels of Wheat, 
Pease, and other Graines, burned, of which ye 
Massachusetts Colony hath not been damnified 
one third Part; and upward of 3,000 Indians, 


336 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


Men, Women and Children, destroyed, — who, if 
well managed, w T ould have been very serviceable 
to ye English; which makes all manner of La- 
bour very dear. 

“ The Warre at present is near an end. In 
Plymouth Colony ye Indians are surrendering 
themselves to Governour Winslow, upon Mercy 
and bring in all their Armes; are wholly at his 
disposall, except Life and Transportation; but 
for all such as have been notoriously Cruell to 
Women and Children, as soon as discovered they 
are to be executed in the sight of their fellow 
Indians. In the Peace concluded with ye In- 
dians, they are to have Liberty to ‘ sit down at 
their former Habitations, without let.’ ” 

It was the misfortune of Weetamoe and her 
son that they w T ere tried, before Governor Wins- 
low’s authority to hang and transport his pris- 
oners was withdrawn. If they had been brought 
to justice later, after the Indians had been wholly 
subdued, there is no doubt they w T ould have 
received clemency at the hands of the stern Pil- 
grims. But, coming before the Court, as they 
did, when King Philip was at the height of his 
bloody career, they suffered the full penalty for 
being allied to one so detested by the colonials. 


SOLD INTO SLAVERY. 


337 


While they accepted their fate with resigna- 
tion, both their staunch friends, Wilfred and 
Captain Church, were disposed to rebel. “ It 
is a tacit breach of trust,” declared the latter. 
“ E’en though I did not promise them freedom 
from transportation in so many words, it was 
because I had no thought that such a thing would 
be contemplated.” 

But he plead and raged to no purpose ; neither 
were the further pleadings of his friend of any 
avail. One morning, a week after the trial, a 
foreign vessel might have been seen in Plymouth 
harbor, manned by Spaniards and Portuguese. 
Aboard this vessel six hundred Indian prisoners 
were taken, with manacles on their limbs, and 
thrust beneath the hatches. 


22 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


HOW THE GREAT SACHEM MET HIS DEATH. 

During the week that intervened between the 
trial and the transportation, Wilfred labored 
hard with the Governor and the magistrates to 
induce them to revoke their decision ; but in vain. 
Had he and his friend, Captain Church, been less 
loyal, they would have denounced the colonial 
government and sulked in their tents; but, though 
they felt the authorities had been too severe, 
and were entirely in the wrong, they remained 
true to the cause; with sad hearts performing 
their duties, as it were under protest. 

Captain Church, however, though urged by 
the Governor and Council to take the field again 
without delay, refused to leave town until the 
prisoners were aboard ship, and meanwhile en- 
tertained them at his mother’s house, together 
with Wilfred and his family. As their white 
friends did all in their power to cheer them up 
338 


HOW THE GREAT SACHEM MET HIS DEATH. 339 

and make the fate in store for them seem brighter 
than it really was, the prisoners on parole grad- 
ually grew less gloomy, and at last, under the 
influence of their environment, became recon- 
ciled to their sentence, and even indulged in hopes 
for the future. 

Between Wilfred and his parents, during that 
week of preparation, long and earnest discus- 
sions took place, which always ended with his 
mother in tears, and his father furious with vexa- 
tion at having his authority opposed. The 
others had an inkling of what was going on, 
but only at the last moment was it made clear 
to them. Then they knew that Wilfred had been 
making one more effort for his friends, and had 
waged a last hard battle in their interests. Hav- 
ing abandoned all hope of clemency from the 
judges, he had come to a determination which no 
argument or appeal could shake. 

Into the domestic warfare that was waged on 
Captain Church’s hearthstone there entered an 
element of bitterness which had hitherto been 
foreign to the Wilkins household. For the first 
time, Goodman Wilkins found his son opposed 
to his authority in matters domestic. He ap- 
pealed in vain to Church to aid him in reducing 


340 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


his son to subjection, for the doughty Captain 
was really on Wilfred’s side. 

“ Ods codfish ! Goodman, let the rascal go, if 
he so desireth. F faith, but I admire his pluck; 
and so wilt thou, my friend, when the rancors 
of this war have subsided. Let him go, I say, 
and honor him for his chivalry ! ” 

At last his father yielded, and, as his mother 
had given her consent days before, (though with 
many a heart-pang at the thought of again losing 
her eldest son), Wilfred was allowed to have 
his way. 

What this “ way ” was, appeared when the 
party gathered at the harbor-beach to bid the 
prisoners God-speed, and to wave a last fare- 
well. Not only were the intimate friends of the 
prisoners there — those who had cheered and sus- 
tained them during their captivity — but hun- 
dreds of soldiers and the townspeople, the former 
led by the gallant Church, and who openly ex- 
pressed their sympathy by vociferous cheers. It 
was very evident what an unfavorable light the 
populace viewed the matter in ; for by this time 
their sympathies had prevailed against their 
opinions as to policy. Even some of those who 
had composed the Court seemed wavering, now 


HOW THE GREAT SACHEM MET HIS DEATH. 341 

that the dread sentence was being carried into 
effect, and one was heard to say, that “ if the trial 
was to come off now, ye captyves might get a 
different verdict.” But it was now, of course, 
too late. While the composure and perfect de- 
portment of Weetamoe, Pometacom and Awashan 
had won entirely the hearts of such citizens as 
had met them, these had nothing to do with the 
making of the laws or the carrying of them into 
effect. 

At last came the crucial moment. All the 
common prisoners having been taken aboard ship, 
all their effects having been carried there also, 
the small boat was now in waiting to take off 
the royal prisoners. It was manned by black- 
browed, brown-skinned foreigners, who looked 
more like pirates than ordinary sailors, and who 
awaited impatiently while the last words were 
said, the last injunctions given. 

Then came the most dramatic happening of 
the leave-taking. Down through the throng be- 
hind the little group of sorrowful prisoners and 
their friends, rode no less a personage than the 
Governor himself. He paid no attention to the 
astonished looks and exclamations of the popu- 
lace and soldiers, but rode straight through them 


342 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


to the gathering by the boat. There he halted, 
and beckoning to Wilfred, said, while his brows 
w T ere knit and his eyes seemed hard and stern, 
“ Young man, I learn that thou’rt bent upon 
accompanying ye prisoners into their captivity. 
Is this thing true? Hast fully made up thy 
mind to do so? ” 

“ I have, your Excellency,” replied Wilfred 
firmly, yet respectfully. 

“ Ha, knowest not that I can forbid thy going? 
That I can put in operation a law aimed to pre- 
vent a citizen of this colony from leaving it in 
time of war? ” 

“ Yea, know I full well, your Excellency. But, 
you will not do so.” 

“ How now? Will not, sayst thou? Will not! 
I’ faith, that’s pretty talk, to one of my position, 
from a beardless youth.” 

The throng pressed forward, in order to be- 
hold the rash youth who had ventured to defy 
their Governor, and some of the rearmost raised 
a cheer, betokening their approval. But Wil- 
fred stood silent, firm though not defiant, clasp- 
ing in one hand the chubby fist of Philip’s son, 
who had clung to him both by night and by day, 
and would not let him go. 


HOW THE GREAT SACHEM MET HIS DEATH. 343 

“ Yea, jour Excellency, as thou sayest; still, 
I feel that thou art a man with the bowels of com- 
passion, notwithstanding thou hast condemned 
these my friends to slavery. Surely wilt thou 
allow me the poor boon of accompanying them 
to that strange land, where they may be buffeted 
and wounded, without one to defend them, with 
no one to champion their cause, and with no one 
to protect this dear lad, who clingeth to me as 
his last refuge.” 

“ Eight art thou,” exclaimed the Governor, 
throwing himself from his horse, and, his whole 
aspect changing. Advancing toward Wilfred 
with his hands outstretched, he took him in a 
close embrace, at the same time saying: “ I am 
a man with ye bowels of mercy and compassion, 
and full sore hath it irked me to affirm this sen- 
tence! But, man and magistrate, are two separ- 
ate and several persons, sooth, so that what I 
feel constrained to do as a magistrate, I loath 
and condemn as a man! In proof of this, I 
entreat thee to accept this purse of gold , the 
which is to be applied to thy necessities; and, 
perchance the opportunity offer, to the purchase 
of the freedom of these thy friends and our 
honored prisoners.” 


344 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


So saying, lie thrust into Wilfred’s hand a fat 
purse, crammed to bursting with gold pieces, 
and made him keep it, too, despite his protests. 

“ Nay, nay,” he said. “ Perchance I have done 
wrong, acting in my capacity as magistrate, in 
some small manner I wish to make amends. 
It is not possible to revoke the sentence of banish- 
ment; but it is possible, once the captives sail 
to a far country, and thus comply with the letter 
of the law, for them to return! Hence it is we 
permit thee, brave lad, to accompany these kin- 
folk of Metacomet: that thou mayest exercise 
supervision over them, and at the right moment 
secure their liberty, perchance they return hither. 

“ And wilt grant them amnesty, peradventure 
this may be brought about?” demanded Wil- 
fred.” 

“ That will I, perchance the war be ended, and 
Metacomet hath done nothing that may cause us 
to change our views.” 

“ Then, father, mother, sister, brother, friends 
all, here assembled, ye hear what our good Gover- 
nor hath said. We go now joyfully, as on a 
pleasure voyage; when at the first it seemed we 
were going to our doom. Wint., my brother, 
care for our dear ones while I am away. It may 


HOW THE GREAT SACHEM MET HIS DEATH. 345 

not be for long, perchance. I would you could 
go with me, but that cannot be. In the nature 
of this business, one must stay, while one goeth 
out on the vasty deep.” Then, having communi- 
cated the welcome news to Pometacom and his 
mother — Awashan having already heard it and 
rejoiced — Wilfred assisted them into the boat, 
and their voyage was really begun. 

All went off, however, with joy betokened in 
their faces, as if on an excursion of pleasure, in- 
stead of a venturesome voyage to a far and un- 
known country. So long as the boat remained 
in sight, the crowd ashore could see. the little son 
of dread Metacomet snuggling in the arms of his 
friend, seeming to care naught for his banish- 
ment, so long as it was in his company. Even 
the wan faces of the two women showed traces 
of smiles, now and then, and a determination to 
endure their fate with fortitude. 

So they went off into the great unknown, these 
four, together with six hundred more; while the 
man of all men who had been most instrumental 
in their banishment, rode with sour visage up 
the strand, through the throng, back to his chair 
of state. The people had signified their appro- 
bation of his generous act, — when he bad acted 


346 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


the man, and spurned the magistrate, that arti- 
ficial creation of mean-spirited lawyers — ; they 
had shouted out their approval in a mighty cheer; 
so it was well shown to Governor Winslow, what 
acts of his were most like to meet with approval 
from the populace. 

The Wilkins family went back to the Hilltop 
Fort, within which they had erected a comfort- 
able domicile, supplementing the camp, and 
where they staid until the war was over. Win- 
throp strove sturdily to fill Wilfred’s place, and 
little Dorothy, child that she was, tried to forget 
her own grief at her brother’s departure by help- 
ing her mother and grandmother in their house- 
hold labors. She had shared with Pometacom the 
shelter of Wilfred’s strong arms, and fain would 
have gone with them to the Barbadoes; but was 
comforted by the Indian lad’s assurance that 
when he returned he would perhaps be a big 
brave, then, and would make her sachemess of 
Pokanoket ! 

After this, the scenes in the great drama of 
blood and desolation were quickly shifted. De- 
prived of the hope that sometime he might see 
and shelter his wife and son, Philip became des- 
perate, at the same time he seemed to lose the 


HOW THE GREAT SACHEM MET HIS DEATH. 34.7 

shrewd cunning, which had aided him so well in 
his attacks upon the settlers. He was fiendish 
in the tortures he applied to his captives; but 
they were fewer than before, and soon the tables 
turned. Instead of being the hunter, he was the 
hunted; surrounded by troops and militia on 
every side, he was driven to seek refuge once 
more in the swamps about his ancient seat of 
Pokanoket, the various hiding-places in which 
were now known to some of his enemies, almost 
as well as himself. 

The last act of the drama was opened about 
mid-summer of 1676, when Captain Church, con- 
vinced that an end to the war could be brought 
about only by the capture of Metacomet, once 
more took the field, armed with a commission 
from the Governor that gave him ample power. 

“ To Captain Benjamin Church,” — this Com- 
mission read : “ You are hereby nominated, 

ordered, commissioned and empowered to raise 
a company of volunteers of about two hundred 
men, English and Indians; the English not ex- 
ceeding the number of sixty, to discover, pursue, 
fight, surprise, destroy or subdue our Indian 
enemies, or any part or party of them, that, by 
the providence of God you may meet ; or them, or 


348 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


any of them, by treaty and composition to re- 
ceive mercy, if you see reason (provided they be 
not murtherous rogues, or such as have been 
principall actors in those villanies). 

And forasmuch as your company may be un- 
certain, and the persons often changed, you are 
also hereby empowered, with the advice of your 
company, to choose and commissionate a Lieu- 
tenant, and to establish Sergeants and Corpo- 
rals, as you see cause. 

And you, herein improving your best judg- 
ment and discretion, and utmost ability, faith- 
fully to serve the interest of God, his Majesty’s 
interest, and the interest of the Colony; and 
carefully governing ye said Company at home 
and abroad. These shall be unto you a full 
and ample commission, warrant and discharge. 
Given under the publick Seal, this 24th day of 
July, 1676.” 

Per Jos. Winslow, Governour.” 

The very same night he received his commis- 
sion (which was the most liberal and far-reach- 
ing issued to an officer of his rank during the 
war) Captain Church marched into the woods, 
camping early in the morning at Munponset 
Pond, where he captured a band of Narraganset 


HOW THE GREAT SACHEM MET HIS DEATH. 349 

Indians. By sudden surprises and swift marches, 
he in this manner carried terror to the Indian 
allies, who quickly abandoned the hitherto great 
sachem, and Philip, left with only a few of his 
most faithful friends’, buried himself in the 
swamp surrounding Pokanoket mountain. 

This was about the middle of August. So 
swiftly had Captain Church pursued his career 
of conquest, that but a little more than two 
weeks elapsed between the time he received his 
commission to go out on the forlorn hope, and 
the time King Philip was really brought to bay. 
The secret of this success lay in the fact that 
the wily Church, taking heed to the lessons 
of his defeats, had impressed the services of 
the friendly Indians 1 , and even caused those at 
first hostile to the colonial cause to join his 
ranks. 

One of the disaffected Indians, who had been 
threatened by King Philip with instant death 
for recommending a surrender, went to Church 
and told him he could lead him and his com- 
pany to the sachem’s hiding-place. “ In the 
providence of our God,” wrote Parson Miles to 
Wilfred (who was then in Barbadoes in the 
West Indies) “ this manoeuvre succeeded, else 


IN KING PHILIP’S WAR. 


350 

we might be hunting that dread sachem to this 
day, and after all might miss his hiding-place. 

“ Know ye, (but exercise your discretion in 
communicating this information to his kindred 
who are with you) that the so-called King 
Philip, who hath been a pestilent Ringleader, 
that had once many hundred men barbarously 
inclined, was now reduced to a small company 
of two-score, before he was killed — as followeth : 

“ He being hid in a Swamp on Mount Hope 
Neck, with his little Party, one of his Indians 
being discontented with him, made an Escape 
from him and came to Taunton and informed 
Capt. Church, our valiant Plymouth officer of a 
Company that was in search after said Philip. 

“ The Captayne being on an island refreshing 
his Men with necessary Provisions, (but under- 
standing where King Philip was, and that he 
intended very speedily to remove afar offe, to 
provide his winter Quarters, retaining still his 
same barbarous Spirit and Purposes, without 
the least Appearance of Reluctancy or offers of 
Mediation) whereupon the said Captayne and 
his Company went in Pursuit of said King 
Philip, taking ye Indian Guide with them. They 
beset a Swamp, where they heard he was, which 



Approaching the place where the body lay, upon search it 
appeared to be the redoubtable King Philip. Page 351 

— In King Philip's War . 













































HOW THE GREAT SACHEM MET HIS DEATH. 35 1 

was very Mirey, and the Ground so loose that 
our Men sank to their Middles in their Attempts 
to come to this skulking Company; but all in 
Vaine, the Passage was too difficult. 

“ While they were thus Beset with Difficul- 
ties in the Attempt, the Providence of God most 
wonderfully Appeared, for, by Chance, the In- 
dian Guide and ye Plimouth Captayne being to- 
gether, the Guide espied an hostyle Indian and 
bids ye Captayne shoot; whose Gunne went not 
offe, only flashed in ye Pan. With that ye hos- 
tyle Indian looked about, and was going to 
shoote; but ye Plimouth Man prevented him and 
shot ye Enemy through the Body, dead, with a 
brace of Bullets! And, approaching the Place 
where he lay, upon search it appeared to be 
ye redoubtable King Philip , — to their no small 
Amazement and great Joy. This seasonable 
Prey was soon divided, for they cut offe his 
Head and Hands, and conveyed them to Rhode 
Island, and quartered his Body and hung it 
upon four great Trees. One Indian more of 
King Philip’s Company they killed, and some 
of the Rest they wounded; but the Swamp being 
so thick and miry, most of them made their 
escape.” 


352 


IN KING PHILIPS WAR. 


“ Captayne Church ordered the Body to be 
pulled out of ye Mire, so some of his Indians 
took hold of him by his Stockings and some by 
his small Breeches (he being otherwise Naked) 
and drew him through ye Mud to the Upland; 
and a great, doleful, naked, dirty Beast he looked 
like, forsooth. Captain Church said that foras- 
much as he had caused many an Englishman’s 
Body to rot above Ground, that not one of his 
Bones should be Buried. And calling his old 
Indian executioner, he bid him behead and 
quarter him. Accordingly he came with his 
Hatchet and stood over him; but before he 
struck, he made a small Speech, directing it to 
Philip, saying that he had been a very big Man, 
and had made many a Man afraid of him; but, 
so big as he was, he would now chop him to 
Pieces; and he went to work accordingly.” 

With the death of King Philip, the war was 
practically ended; but there still remained sev- 
eral sagamores who had fought with him and 
who kept to the fields for months thereafter. 
One of these sagamores, on being captured, said 
to Captain Church, “ Man, you first made Meta- 
comet ready to die, and made him poor and 
miserable as he used to make the English, by 


HOW THE GREAT SACHEM MET HIS DEATH. 353 

killing or capturing all his relations; for his 
heart was broken when he lost his wife and 
child; and now you have his head! There is 
now nothing more to fight for; all the saga- 
mores will yield, now, for the end is nigh.” 

His prediction was true, for the last of the 
great sagamores was taken at the end of the sum- 
mer. This was Anawon, who had been with 
Philip in the swamp, and whom Captain Church 
heard urging on his men to fight with great shouts 
of : “ Iootash ! Iootash ! ” He escaped, but soon 
after was taken by stratagem, and accompanied 
Church to Plymouth, where he was put to death, 
notwithstanding the protests of his gallant cap- 
tor. One night, while Church and his company, 
with their prisoners, were encamped in the 
forest, Sagamore Anawon, who was sleeping by 
the Captain’s side, arose and crept into the dark- 
ness. 

Thinking he might intend to return and mur- 
der him, Captain Church prepared for his com- 
ing by priming his piece and keeping wary 
watch. But the grand old man soon showed 
his good intentions by returning unarmed, as 
he had left. 

“ Great Captain,” he said, addressing his cap- 
23 


354 


IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 


tor, “ You have killed King Philip and con- 
quered his country; for I believe that I and my 
company are the last that war against the Eng- 
lish. So the war is ended by your means, and 
surely these things belong to you. Thereupon 
he opened a pack he had brought with him, and 
pulled out at first King Philip’s belt of wam- 
pum, curiously wrought in various figures of 
birds, beasts and flowers. It was nine inches 
broad, and when hung upon Captain Church’s 
shoulders reached his ankles. Another band of 
wampum was that which King Philip used to 
wear upon his head, as a sort of crown. This 
had two flags on the back part, which hung down 
his back; while another smaller belt was adorned 
with a star, and this be used to hang upon hb 
breast. 

These wampum belts, with their rude figures 
of animals and flowers, had been made by fair 
Weetamoe and Awashan, who, w r hile the great 
King Philip’s spoil was being bestowed upon his 
captor, were exiles in a far country ’neath a 
tropic sky. With them, as we know, was the 
hero of our story, who had tried in vain to win 
Philip from the career that ended in his shameful 
death, and also the son of the great sachem, who, 


HOW THE GREAT SACHEM MET HIS DEATH. 355 

but for the war, might have succeeded Philip 
as King of the Wampanoags. 

Inglorious was the death of King Philip, and 
base the betrayal of his hiding-place by the In- 
dian who had once been his follower and shared 
his hospitality. But, however brought about, 
that death was necessary to the ending of the 
war, and, hastened as it was by Captain Church, 
to him should be the glory attaching to its con- 
summation. His deeds are chronicled in his- 
tory; but those of his young friend and com- 
rade, Wilfred Wilkins, have been hidden in the 
obscurity of colonial records, and now for the 
first time see the light 


THE END. 



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“This is a little idyl of humble life and enduring love, laid bare before 
us, very real and pure, which in its telling shows us some strong points of 
Welsh character— the pride, the hasty temper, the quick dying out of wrath. 
,. . . We call this a well-written story, interesting alike through its 

romance and its glimpses into another life than ours. A delightful and 
clever picture of Welsh village life. The result is excellent.” — Detroit Free 
Press. 

MIFANWY. The story of a Welsh Singer. By Allan Raine. Cloth, 
i2mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00. 

“This is a love story, simple, tender and pretty as one would care to 
read. The action throughout is brisk and pleasing; the characters, it is ap- 
parent at once, are as true to life as though the author had known them 
all personally. Simple in all its situations, the story is worked up in that 
touching and quaint strain which never grows wearisome, no matter how 
often the lights and shadows of love are introduced. It rings true, and 
does not tax the imagination.” — Boston Herald. 


**or sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the pub 
tifihetfi. A. L. BURT COMPANY Duane St.. New York. 


Good Fiction Worth Reading. 


A series of romances containing several of the old favorites in the field 
of historical fiction, replete with powerful romances of love and diplomacy 
that excel in thrilling and absorbing interest. 


OARNLEY. A Romance of the times of Henry VIII. and Cardinal Wolsey 
By G. P. R. James. Cloth, i2mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis- 
Price, f i.oo. 

In point of publication, “Darnley” is that work by Mr. James which/ 
follows 4 ‘Richelieu,’ • and, if rumor can be credited, it was owing to the ad- 
vice and insistence of our own Washington Irving that we are indebted 
primarily for the story, the young author questioning whether he could 
properly paint the difference in the characters of the two great cardinals. 
And it is not surprising that James should have hesitated; he had been- 
eminently successful in giving to the world the portrait of Richelieu as a 
man, and by attempting a similar tScsk with Wolsey as the theme, was 
much like tempting fortune. Irving Insisted that “Darnley” came natur- 
ally in sequence, and this opinion being supported by Sir Walter Scott, 
the author set about the work. 

As a historical romance “Darnley” is a book that can be taken up 
pleasurably again and again, for there is about it that subtle charm whicfc 
those who are strangers to the works of G. P. R. James have claimed was 
only to be imparted by Dumas. 

If there was nothing more about the work to attract especial attention, 
the account of the meeting of the kings on the historic “field of the cioth of 
gold” would entitle the story to the most favorable consideration of every 
reader. 

There is really but little pure romance in this story, for the author hat 
taken care to imagine love passages only between those whom history has 
credited with having entertained the tender passion one for another, and 
he succeeds in making such lovers as all the world must love. 

CAPTAIN BRAND, OF THE SCHOONER CENTIPEDE. By X,ieut 
Henry A. Wise, U.S. N. (Harry Gringo). Cloth, i2mo. with four illustra- 
tions by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00. 

The re-publication of this story will please those lovers of sea yarns 
who delight in so much of the salty flavor of the ocean as can come through 
the medium of a printed page, for never has a story of the sea and thosd 
“who go down in ships” been written by one more familiar with the scenes 
depicted. 

The one book of this gifted author which is best remembered, and which 
will be read with pleasure for many years to come, is “Captain Brand , " 
who, as the author states on his title page, was a “pirate of eminence in 
the West Indies.” As a sea story pure and simple, “Captain Brand” has 
never been excelled* and as a story of piratical life, told without the usual 
embellishments of blood and thunder, it has no equal. 

NICK OF THE WOODS. A story of the Early Settlers of Kentucky. By 
Robert Montgomery Bird. Cloth, i2mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson 
Davis. Price, $1.00. 

This most popular novel and thrilling story of early frontier life in 
Kentucky was originally published in the year 1837. The novel, long out of 
print, had in its day a phenomenal sale, for its realistic presentation of 
Indian and frontier life in the early days of settlement in the South, nar- 
rated in the tale with all the art of a practiced writer. A very charming 
love romance runs through the story. This new and tasteful edition of 
“Nick of the Woods” will be certain to make many new admirers for 
this enchanting story from Dr. Bird's clever and versatile pen. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the pub- 
lishers, A, L. BURT COMPANV* 52-58 Duane St., New York. 

0 


Good Fiction Worth Reading. 


A series of romances containing several of the old favorites in the field 
of historical fiction, replete with powerful romances of love and diplomacy 
that excel in thrilling and absorbing interest. 


GUY FAWKES. A Romance of the Gunpowder Tr«ison. By Wm. Harri- 
son Ainsworth. Cloth, i2mo. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank. 
-Price, $1.00. 

The "Gunpowder Plot" was a modest attempt to blow up Parliament, 
the King- and his Counsellors. James of Scotland, then King of England, 
was weak-minded and extravagant He hit upon the efficient scheme of 
extorting money from the people by imposing taxes on the Catholics. In 
their natural resentment to this extortion, a handful of bold spirits con- 
cluded to overthrow the government. Finally the plotters were arrested, 
( and the King put to torture Guy Fawkes and the other prisoners with 
royal vigor. A very intense love story runs through the entire romance. 

THE SPIRIT OF THE BORDER. A Romance of the Early Settlers in the 
Ohio Valley. By Zane Grey. Cloth. i2mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson 
Davis. Price, $1.00. 

A book rather out of the ordinary is this "Spirit of the Border.” The 
main thread of the story has to do with the work of the Moravian mis- 
sionaries in the Ohio Valley. Incidentally the reader is given details of th<» 
frontier life of those hardy pioneers who broke the wilderness for the plant- 
ing of this great nation. Chief among these, as a matter of course, ia 
Lewis Wetzel, one of the most peculiar, and at the same time the most 
admirable of all the brave men who spent their lives battling with the 
savage foe, that others might dwell in comparative security. 

Details of the establishment and destruction of the Moravian "Village 
of Peace" are given at some length, and with minute description. The 
efforts to Christianize the Indians are described as they never have been 
before, and the author has depicted the characters of the leaders of the 
several Indian tribes with great care, which of itself will be of interest to 
the student. 

By no means least among the charms of the story are the vivid word- 
pictures of the thrilling adventures, and the intense paintings of the beau- 
ties of nature, as seen in the almost unbroken forests. 

It is the spirit of the frontier which is described, and one can by it, 
perhaps, the better understand why men, and women, too, willingly braved 
every privation and danger that the westward progress of the star of em- 
pire might be the more certain and rapid. A love story, simple and tender, 
runs through the book. 

RICHELIEU. A tale of France in the reign of King Louis XIII. By G, P„ 
R. James. Cloth, i2mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00. 

In 1829 Mr. James published his first romance, "Richelieu," and was 
recognized at once as one of the masters of the craft. 

In this book he laid the story during those later days of the great car- 
I dinal’s life, when his power was beginning to wane, but while it was 
yet sufficiently strong to permit now and then of volcanic outbursts which 
overwhelmed foes and carried friends to the topmost wave of prosperity. 
One of the most striking portions of the story is that of Cinq Mar’s conspir- 
acy the method of conducting criminal cases, and the political trickery 
resorted to by royal favorites, affording a better insight into the state- 
craft of that day than can be had even by an exhaustive study of history. 
It is a powerful romance of love and diplomacy, and in point of thrilling 
and absorbing Interest has never been excelled. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the pul> 
liahere, A, L. BURT COMPANY, 5**58 Duane St., New York. 


Good Fiction Worth Reading. 


A scries of romances containing several of the old favorites in the field 
of historical fiction, replete with powerful romances of love and diplomacy 
that excel in thrilling and absorbing interest. 


WINDSOR CASTLE. A Historical Romance of the Reign of Henry VIII., 
Catharine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn. By Wm. Harrison Ainsworth. Cloth, 
x2mo. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank. Price, $1.00. 

“Windsor Castle” is the story of Henry VIII., Catharine, and Anne 
Boleyn. “Bluff King Hal,” although a well-loved monarch, was none too 
good a one in many ways. Of all his selfishness and unwarrantable acts, 
none was more discreditable than his divorce from Catharine, and his mar- 
riage to the beautiful Anne Boleyn. The King’s love was as brief as it 
was vehement. Jane Seymour, waiting maid on the Queen, attracted him, 
and Anne Boleyn was forced to the block to make room for her successor. 
This romance is one of extreme interest to all readers. 

HORSESHOE ROBINSON. A tale cf the Tory Ascendency in South Caro- 
lina in 1780. By John P. Kennedy. Cloth, i2mo. with four illustrations by J. 
Watson Davis. Price, Ji.oo. 

Among the old favorites in the field of what Is known as historical fic- 
tion, there are none which appeal to a larger number of Americans than 
Horseshoe Robinson, and this because it is the only story which depicts 
with fidelity to the facts the heroic efforts erf the colonists in South Caro- 
lina to defend their homes against the brutal oppression of the British 
under such leaders as Cornwallis and Tarleton. 

The reader is charmed with the story of love which forms the thread 
of the tale, and then impressed with the wealth of detail concerning those 
times. The picture of the manifold sufferings of the people, is never over- 
drawn, but painted faithfully and honestly by one who spared neither 
time nor labor in his efforts to present in this charming love story all that 
price in blood and tears which the Carolinians paid as their share in the 
winning of the republic. 

Take it all in all, “Horseshoe Robinson” is a work which should be 
found on every book-shelf, not only because it is a most entertaining 
story, but because of the wealth of valuable information concerning the 
colonists which it contains. That it has been brought out once more, well 
Illustrated, is something which will give pleasure to thousands who have 
long desired an opportunity to read the story again, and to the many who 
have tried vainly in these latter days to procure a copy that they might 
read it for the first time. 

THE PEARL OP ORR’S ISLAND. A story of the Coast of Maine. By 
Harriet Beecher Stowe. Cloth, i2mo. Illustrated. Price, $1.00. 

Written prior to 1862, the “Pearl of Orr’s Island” is ever new; a book 
filled with delicate fancies, such as seemingly array themselves anew each 
time one reads them. One sees the “sea like an unbroken mirror all 
around the pine-girt, lonely shores of Orr’s Island,” and straightway 
comes “the heavy, hollow moan of the surf on the beach, like the wild 
angry howl of some savage animal.” 

Who can read of the beginning of that sweet life, named Mara, which 
came into this world under the very shadow of the Death angel’s wings, 
without having an intense desire to know how the premature bud blos- 
somed? Again and again one lingers over the descriptions of the char- 
acter of that baby boy Moses, who came through the tempest, amid the 
angry billows, pillowed on his dead mother's breast. 

There is no more faithful portrayal of New England life than that 
which Mrs. Stowe gives in “The Pearl of Orr’s Island.” 


H 7 / 

For aale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the pub* 
Habers. A. L. BURT COMPANY, 52-58 Duane St.. New York. 



































































































































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